Communication Breakdown
by sienna27
Summary: TV Show Episode Title Challenge - Prompt Set #6 - Title Challenge: Ye Olde Dating Game - Hotch and Emily share a steamy kiss. She assumes he's ready to move their relationship to a new level, in actuality he did it on impulse. Complications ensue.
1. The Rules of Engagement

**Author's Note**: I'm on a frigging roll with new inspiration lately. It's kind of driving me nuts because my brain just keeps going new places. But I figure as long as both the beginning and the END of the story are coming to me in short order, then I'll just keep going with them.

I know that my bread and butter are relationship stories. But this one is a little different. It's my effort to tell the story of a 'realistic' male/female relationship. Realistic in a completely AU context of course. They aren't walking into this with the soul mate, eyes wide open, totally on the same page thing. He's thinking like a guy, she's thinking like a chick and problems will ensue.

I didn't want it to be fluffy really. I actually thought about making it darker in theme but then decided that _Three Long Mountains_ is working the black magic just fine on its own this week so I ended up going with sort of funny/angsty here. Though this characterization might be similar with H/P from _Girl_, I didn't want them to have the exact same voices. So though I do promise an eventual happy ending, it's not quite as light as Girl can get.

This one, opening chapter notwithstanding, will be more from Emily's POV. The reason for that will become clear in chapter two.

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**Prompt Set #6**

Show: That's So Raven

Title Challenge: Ye Olde Dating Game

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**The Rules of Engagement**

Emily stopped in front of her door, turning and looking up at Hotch with a little smile, "thanks for walking me up."

They'd worked late tonight and then he'd asked her if she wanted to get a bite to eat. It certainly wasn't the first time that they'd done that, but this was the first time that he'd walked her all the way upstairs. Usually he just made sure she got into the building okay, and then she sent him a text message once she was in her apartment. But this door escort thing was nice.

Yeah . . . she eyed him standing there looking all rumpled and gorgeous . . . she could definitely get used this.

His eyes crinkled as he looked down at her, "no problem."

God she was beautiful. How had he never noticed how beautiful she was before?

Hotch stared at her for a moment, wondering if her skin was as soft as it looked. And then before he knew it, he was leaning in . . . and she was closing her eyes . . . and he was kissing her.

He was kissing Prentiss.

Some part of his brain realized that there was probably something in the manual that prohibited that action. But as he felt her soft body in his arms, and her small hands pressing against his chest, he really couldn't find it in him to care much about the manual.

His tongue slid tentatively past her lips, but it was just a taste, he didn't want anything to get out of hand. But as he started to pull back, she leaned up, chasing his mouth as her fingers clutched his jacket.

Okay . . . he slid his hand around her waist, pulling her body tightly against his . . . if she wanted to keep going, they'd keep going.

He backed her into the wall, trapping her there as he kissed her passionately, hungrily . . . wantonly.

They'd never done this before . . . she hooked her leg around his, pulling him closer . . . but right now . . . he greedily sucked on her tongue . . . he really couldn't get enough of her.

She tasted like the peppermint she'd had after dinner. At that moment he decided that peppermint was his new favorite flavor. Everything should come in peppermint. Especially beautiful brunettes . . . his hands cupped her jaw . . . whose skin was indeed as soft as it looked.

And as she suddenly moaned against his mouth he thought that perhaps he could stay out there in the hallway all night with her.

Finally though . . . his lungs started to scream . . . oxygen became a concern, and he realized that he needed to stop.

He reluctantly pulled back, giving her one last soft kiss before he separated from her completely.

They were both panting as they sucked in the desperately needed air. And then he looked down at her . . . lips swollen, cheeks flushed, hair mussed.

She had shot right past beautiful and straight to absolutely gorgeous.

But now that the moment was broken, he wasn't sure what to say.

This was _not_ typical behavior for them. They weren't dating. They hadn't had any sort of discussion about moving their relationship beyond the boundaries in which it currently existed.

Current boundaries . . . though they had been extended over the past few months . . . were still quite platonic. Kissing Emily was purely a spur of the moment impulse.

But he hadn't the first clue as to what to do next.

Though as he looked down at her, he could now see that the longer he went without talking, the more uncomfortable she looked. And then her eyes fell away from his and she put her hand to her mouth.

She was embarrassed.

Oh . . . his expression softened . . . he didn't want her to be embarrassed.

Granted, he didn't know what the hell he was doing, but he definitely knew that whatever had just happened was on him. After all, he'd initiated. So he certainly couldn't leave her standing there feeling foolish because of his actions.

And after he quickly ran down what had just happened, he came to one conclusion . . . he didn't regret what he'd just done.

'_Good enough for the moment. Now make her feel better before she starts crying and then you have to kick your own ass.'_

He pulled her to his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around her before he murmured against her hair, "maybe we could do that again sometime," he paused, realizing what he'd just said, so he quickly clarified, "dinner, I mean," he rubbed his hand slowly up and down her back, "maybe we could . . . get dinner."

Now, 'dinner' could be construed as a euphemism for making out in the hallway like horny teenagers. OR, it could be seen as an offer to actually go get a nice meal at a sit down restaurant with tablecloths.

Given that he was completely winging it at the moment, that level of ambiguity was about the most he could offer up.

Breathing a sigh of relief that he'd smoothed over what was shaping up to be a horribly awkward moment, Emily nodded back, her cheek brushing against his shirt, "I'd like that," her hands slipped under his jacket as she said again softly, "I'd like that very much."

It was obvious to her that 'dinner' meant kissing. And she'd been hoping that one of these days Hotch would kiss her. She'd had this hope for going on three and a half months now.

After Colorado he'd started becoming more . . . what was the word?

Attentive.

Asking her to get dinner with him when they worked late, walking her to her car (first occasionally, now regularly), randomly leaving unrequested cups of coffee and low fat blueberry muffins on her desk.

It was the workaholic's version of courtship.

There had been no conversation about what was happening, no prior physical contact . . . certainly nothing like what had just happened . . . and she honestly hadn't been sure if there ever would be anything more between them.

The divorce had really messed Hotch up. She wasn't even sure if he'd had a date since he'd signed the papers.

And that was over a year ago.

Though to be fair, it wasn't just Hotch that was running his own conveyer belt of emotional baggage.

She was pushing forty, and it had been nearly a decade since she'd had romantic entanglement that had lasted longer than a month.

Basically she was a mess.

So she hadn't really been pushing for anything to happen. Initially she had just been enjoying their time together. It was really nice having his undivided attention as they talked about things besides wound patterns and dump sites.

But their time alone had reminded her that Hotch . . . when he wasn't being all intense and scary . . . was actually very sweet.

First and foremost, he was a gentleman. He pulled out her chair, helped her with her coat and opened doors for her.

Basically he treated like a lady.

It was kind of sad . . . but with the exception of her dad . . . she didn't know if anyone had ever treated that nicely before.

And though when she first started she'd been convinced that Hotch didn't have a sense of humor, she later realized that she was quite wrong on that front. Over these past few months, the more time they spent together, the more he showed that side of himself to her. He had a sharp, dry wit that she'd come to really appreciate and enjoy.

He made her laugh.

Then a few weeks ago she'd noticed that when his hand glided over her back, or his leg brushed against hers on the plane, it gave her a warm tingle low in her stomach. Her feelings for him had clearly been deepening.

She just hadn't had a clue before as to how he felt about her.

But now . . . she felt him start to lean back . . . it was at least clear that her feelings weren't completely one sided. He wouldn't have kissed her if he didn't want more too.

Also . . . her eyes crinkled as she reached up to wipe the red lipstick from his mouth . . . he really was a fabulous kisser.

This was definitely a new aspect to their relationship that she could get used to very quickly.

Hotch's lips twitched at Emily's efforts to clean up his face. Seeing as she didn't appear to be wearing her lipstick at all anymore, he presumed that it was all over him.

So unless she had some soap and water, attempting to wipe it off now with her fingers was probably a lost cause.

Though as she ran the pad of her thumb over his lower lip again, he suddenly he realized how much he wanted to have the opportunity to mess up her lipstick again.

But he wasn't sure if that was a good idea. They worked together. And though he did admittedly have some very strong feelings towards her, that didn't mean it was prudent to act on them.

If they became involved and it didn't work out, it could destroy their relationship as it was now. And he'd really come to value her friendship. Simply spending time with her made him happy.

What if he couldn't do that anymore? What if he made a mess of things?

Not to mention the possible repercussions at work. The manual he'd been ignoring earlier was indeed quite clear on the topic of supervisor/subordinate relationships.

They weren't allowed.

Therefore, if they were going to do this, then he had to be damn sure that he knew what he was getting into. His brow twitched slightly . . . this was much too big a decision to make on the fly.

He needed to think.

So he caught her hand, pressing his lips to the back of it before he said softly, "I have to go."

As much as he'd love to stay, even just to talk, he needed to get out of there before he got another spur of the moment impulse. A kiss they could always move passed if he decided that he wasn't ready to pursue anything with Emily beyond simple friendship.

But if anything more than a kiss happened tonight . . . well, that could really screw things up.

Emily frowned . . . she really wanted him to stay. So much so that she was about to open her mouth to remind him how early it was, but then she realized that he was probably right. He should go before something else happened. After that amazing kiss she doubted that she'd able to keep her lips to herself once they were behind a locked door.

Though she assumed that he at least had some clue as to what he was doing . . . otherwise she couldn't see him kissing her like THAT . . . they still shouldn't move too fast.

As much as she'd been hoping that one of these days he'd get around to at least giving her a kiss, she honestly hadn't allowed herself to think about, or really even hope, for anything beyond that act. Given that she hadn't previously had a clue about his feelings, it seemed like she'd be setting herself up for disappointment. And she had enough real world disappointments.

Who needed to manufacture more in their head?

But she was sad that he was leaving, so she leaned against him again, wrapping her arms around his waist as she hugged him one last time.

"Goodnight," she whispered.

Hotch closed his eyes as he breathed her in for a moment. She was definitely making it harder to leave.

But . . . he kissed the top of her head . . . leave he must.

He stepped back, eyes crinkling slightly as he backed away, "I'll see you tomorrow."

The thought came to him again . . . God she was beautiful.

Emily gave him a shy smile before she blew him a kiss. And then she turned away to unlock her door.

Hotch couldn't help but smile at the air kiss. It was so sweet.

It was so Emily.

And that was another point in favor of maybe changing their relationship to something more.

Though . . . a worrisome thought came to him . . . with the hands under his jacket and the sweet kiss . . . maybe she thought that they'd _already_ changed their relationship.

Oh . . . crap.

'_Well, apparently if you shove your tongue down a woman's throat Aaron she can get the wrong idea!'_

Being careful not to let on to Emily how thrown he now was, Hotch waited until she was safely inside before he turned towards the elevators. And as he walked down the hall he shook his head in disgust.

'_Oh Christ Aaron, what the hell did you do?'_

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_A/N 2: Cautionary tale for the kiddies, shoving your tongue down someone's throat CAN indeed send a mixed signal. _

_Like I said, I liked the idea of giving them a more realistic get together. It's not like Girl where they've been spending every waking moment together and can read each other's minds. Emily here, taking what she knew from 'in control canon Hotch' presumed that he did what he did on purpose. But in reality it was just an 'in the moment' kiss. So he reads it one way, she reads it another, and all of a sudden he's got a mess on his hands. But again, this story is now going to shift over to Emily's POV for a couple of chapters._

_This one is going to probably top out at about five or six chapters. I've got four of them written and the end is all sketched out in my head. Just the nature of the events of this story these will be shorter chapters than I usually do so there will be more of them :)_

_Feedback as always does feed the muse. And given how much she's been churning out lately clearly she's been quite appreciate of so many people this week taking the time to drop a line :)_


	2. The Dawn of a New Day

**Author's Note**: Hopefully this isn't exactly what you were expecting. I like to keep you on your toes :)

Oh! And the stupid site did some sort of fabulous upgrade and it BROKE all of the older review links! It actually tells me "OOPS!" I was staring at it like WTF does that mean?! Oops. So it _seems_ to mean that I can't respond to anyone who wrote to me before like 9 am this morning. And that's more a couple of you. Basically this is just a heads up, if you randomly start getting PMs from me, please know, I'm not getting overly familiar in a 'hey what's going on guys you want to hang out in my mom's basement and play twister?' kind of way. You don't need to draw up any "boundaries." It was just the only way I could answer your questions and/or say thanks.

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**The Dawn of a New Day**

Emily came into work the next morning practically floating.

Hotch had kissed her! HOTCH had kissed _HER_!

That was just . . . AWESOME!

Though they hadn't yet talked about anything specific, she knew that they'd started on a new path. And after he'd left last night she'd started thinking, and now she really was convinced that this was a relationship with long term possibilities.

Their personalities were very compatible, they shared a common passion for their work, work that most people couldn't understand, and though they were both broken . . . she had started to see that perhaps they were broken in complimentary ways.

Perhaps they could fill in each other's missing pieces.

And that's why she was in such a good mood. A kind, sweet, handsome man who she'd been falling hard for these past few months, had kissed her last night until her toes curled.

What could possibly be better than that?

Though as she sat down, Morgan's salacious, "girl did you get some boom chicka last night?" did slightly dampen her good spirits.

Throwing a scowl in his direction, Emily hissed, "my personal life is not a topic for your coffee klatch Derek!"

That's all she needed, for Morgan to find out that she was involved with Hotch. She'd never hear the end of it. But, his typically Morgan like behavior did remind her that she should reduce the wattage of her ridiculous grin a little bit.

If Derek was already making comments on her good mood two minutes after she walked in the door, she could only expect more of the same from the others.

Of course . . . she rolled her eyes . . . only Morgan would phrase it just that way.

Pig.

Either way though, as she began checking her email she resolved to keep her personal happiness under her hat today.

But as it turned out . . . that wasn't such a problem. Because her day took a depressing turn almost immediately.

Hotch didn't show up for work.

At first she was just surprised that she'd beaten him in. But then as she sat there, still not seeing him walk past her to go to his office, she decided that he must have had an early meeting.

That assumption was shot to hell when she went up for the morning briefing.

As soon as they sat down Dave told them that Hotch wouldn't be joining them. He was out of town, taking some "personal time." What that meant, Emily had NO idea. But she couldn't recall the last time Hotch had taken personal time for any reason, let alone left town for anything but work.

And though she wasn't so conceited . . . or self conscious . . . as to think that his absence had anything to do with what had happened between them, she was depressed that he was out. And she was also kind of worried that maybe something was wrong.

But "personal time" really could mean so many things. Guessing would be pointless, she'd just have to wait until she talked to him.

So as soon as she got out of the briefing she headed out to one of the empty conference rooms to get some privacy. And then she tried his cell.

Voicemail . . . she huffed . . . of course.

She took a breath, "hey it's me . . . Emily. Dave told us you were out so I just wanted to make sure that everything was okay. So give me a call when you get a chance . . ." she paused for a moment and then her voice dropped, "I miss you."

As soon as the words were out of her mouth she regretted them. And she quickly snapped her phone shut before she said anything else.

'_GOD! Way to look all psycho clingy Em!'_

Technically all they'd done so far was share an amazing kiss. They hadn't had a real date or talked yet about what was happening. So if she started saying stuff like that already he was going to think she was like a BUNNY boiler or something!

This was the first new relationship she'd started in years that she thought really had a future. And here she was potentially screwing it up on day two.

But wait, wait . . . she took a breath, trying to calm down . . . it's not like she'd said 'I love you.' Now THAT would have been a disaster. THAT she would have had to put in for an immediate transfer. This was just an 'I miss you.'

An 'I miss you' wasn't that bad . . . was it?

If Morgan or Dave were away she'd miss them. Okay . . . she tipped her head . . . granted she probably wouldn't mention it in a voicemail if they'd only been gone for three hours, but, well, uh . . . crap.

Well, maybe she should call back and explain . . . _'GAH! IT'S DONE, JUST LET IT GO EM!' _screamed the rational part of her brain.

Her rational brain went on to tell her that if she called him back now to attempt to clarify what she'd meant then she'd just end up looking like a total spaz. Better to just leave it alone, and then when she talked to him later she'd make a little joke out of it.

Yeah . . . she started to feel a bit better . . . that was a good idea. Just address it head on in a lighthearted way. That's what he'd be expecting from her anyway . . . she rolled her eyes . . . some stupid, goofy joke.

Realizing she was maybe being a little too hard on herself . . . and him, that was unkind to him as well . . . she decided to put the whole thing out of her head.

And she did, she went back to her desk and moved on to other things.

Over the next four hours she responded to nine emails, reviewed almost a half dozen case files, typed up her conclusions on last week's prison interview and then went to grab a cup of coffee before she went up to Dave's office. She was supposed to sit in with him and Spencer during a consult with Interpol on a string of mutilation homicides in Belgium.

Originally it was supposed to be Dave and Reid plus Hotch. And it gave her a little warm fuzzy when Dave said in the briefing that Hotch mentioned in his voicemail that she would be a good substitute for him. That little boost to her ego was slightly deflated when Reid pointed out that they could use her linguistic skills to review the notes the serial killer had been leaving.

They were in French.

And that's when Rossi added, "yeah, that was Hotch's thinking as well."

So much for the warm fuzzies. Her choice as a substitute was just a practical consideration.

Therefore, on a slightly less 'chipper' note she walked up the stairs to sit through what turned out to be a ninety minute call with the Belgian task force. They'd never had a serial there before and really didn't know what the hell they were doing.

But the three of them were at least able to give the task force some basics to narrow down their suspect pool. And as they hung up Dave promised they'd get back to them the following afternoon with a more in depth profile.

All in all, it was a good meeting.

As she was leaving Dave's office, Emily suddenly turned back and asked in what she hoped was a casual tone, "did you talk to Hotch today?"

She still hadn't had a call back from him. And that was a little odd.

He glanced over, "no. I haven't heard anything since his earlier message. And he said that he'd be out for a few days at least so I wasn't really expecting to hear from him again right away."

Her eyes bugged out, "a few DAYS!?"

WHAT THE HELL?!

Dave's eyebrow shot up, "is that a problem? Did you two have something scheduled this week?"

Feeling her face getting warm, Emily quickly shook her head, "uh no, I was just surprised is all. From what you said this morning, I just got the impression that he'd be back tomorrow."

'_God! Way to make an ASS out of yourself Em! Why don't you just tattoo, 'I'm doing the boss' on your forehead!?'_

Not that she was 'doing' the boss. Not yet anyway. But she hopefully would be soon. Or at least she would be if she ever saw the man again! A 'few' meant like three _at_ _least_.

That was a lot of days.

After a moment of sizing her up, Dave smirked, "you're blushing Prentiss."

The pink in her cheeks was quite attractive. But now he was left to wonder WHY she was blushing.

Her cheeks now burning, Emily started to back out of his office, "I'm just overheated," then she shot him a scowl, "God Dave, the heat's on and we've been stuck in your office for an hour with the door shut. What the hell do you expect?"

Before he could say anything else . . . she knew nothing good was coming from a mouth wearing that smirk . . . Emily turned and bolted across the catwalk and down the stairs.

Rather than stopping at her desk, she just dropped her notepad on her chair and grabbed her jacket.

She was most definitely in need of some fresh . . . if albeit slightly chilly . . . air.

Without a word to anyone Emily headed out of the bullpen. And after seeing the crowd by the elevator . . . the seven to three shift was just getting off . . . she decided to take the stairs.

Once she was outside, she turned left and started towards the Starbucks. As she walked along the icy sidewalk she pulled out her cell phone again.

No voicemails . . . no missed calls.

Okay, well, she didn't want to bother him with another voicemail saying the exact same thing (minus the 'I miss you' of course) so maybe a text message?

Yeah . . . she nodded to herself . . . a text would be good. Hotch always responded immediately to text messages.

With a plan now in place to reach out again without being annoying about it, she stepped into the coffee shop. And after she got her gingerbread latte she settled into the corner of the Starbucks and typed Hotch a short note.

'_Is everything going okay?'_

No '_I miss you_' this time. Once was enough.

After she hit send, she sat there at the table sipping her hot beverage, waiting for Hotch to write back to her.

Except . . . she frowned as ten minutes passed . . . he didn't.

Which was really, REALLY odd. Hotch carried his phone with him everywhere. And it's not as though he had to write a novel back to her. Just a 'call you later' or something.

That takes like two seconds.

Her brow wrinkled in concern . . . maybe there was something really wrong. Or maybe . . . she got a little tickle in the back of her brain . . . he just didn't want to talk to her.

Maybe he'd woken up this morning and totally regretted kissing her last night.

She scrunched up her face, _'no, Emily, you're jumping to ridiculous conclusions. The man's away, and apparently the man is busy. He'll get back to you when he gets back to you. Now stop thinking like such a chick.'_

With a little sigh, she took another sip of her latte.

But it didn't taste good anymore.

Not only did that little tickle stubbornly insist on sticking around, but she was also depressed knowing that she wasn't going to see him for days.

With as much as they worked, she had probably seen Hotch ten hours a day at least five, often six, sometimes seven days a week, for the past three years. And since she'd been spending so much more personal time with him, they often went well over ten hours.

His absence from the office was going to be something that she'd feel much more acutely than she perhaps would have before.

And then she started feeling guilty for selfishly thinking of her own feelings about what was going on when she probably should be more focused on his. Though as she thought about it she realized that she had no idea _what_ his feelings were at the moment, so it was kind of hard to focus on them.

She hadn't a clue as to why he was MIA. And until she knew that, everything else was purely speculation.

It just seemed so odd to her that he wouldn't have left her a message too.

And that's when she realized that's what was really driving her depression and insecurity here. After that kiss last night she had thought they were turning a page. That she'd now reached a new . . . status.

_Girlfriend?_

Her nose wrinkled . . . maybe not. But she thought she was . . . something. And if you're somebody's 'something' and the somebody is going to go out of town for three or four days, then generally the somebody leaves the 'something' a little message.

He hadn't left her a message though. He hadn't even sent her a text.

And that kind of bothered her. Because even if he was busy it seemed like maybe he'd have two seconds somewhere to send her a text message.

You'd think he'd do that if he had meant what she'd thought that he'd meant by his kiss last night.

But . . . she swallowed . . . maybe that kiss didn't mean what she thought it did.

Maybe she wasn't a 'something' . . . maybe she was just . . . a nothing.

Feeling her eyes begin to burn, she knew that she needed to stop thinking about this now before she got herself all worked up.

There was plenty of time when she got home to mope and obsess.

So with a weary sigh, she got up and tossed her empty cup into the trash. And then she began the slow trudge back to the office.

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Emily sat up against the headboard, staring intently at the phone in her hand.

She was willing it to ring.

When she got home she'd been so tempted to call him again. But that little tickle in her head . . . insecurity . . . told her to just sit tight. She'd left him a voicemail and sent him a text message. He knew she was here when he wanted/was able, to talk.

And that totally made sense. Even if she wasn't an emotional basket case at the moment she'd still believe that logic was sound.

Yet she was still sitting there staring at her phone, desperately wishing he'd call back. And that was because that little voice in her head . . . the tickle . . . had started saying other things to her.

It started saying that maybe he was avoiding her.

Of course she wasn't so neurotic as to think that he'd just disappear in the middle of the work week to avoid dealing with her.

But maybe this was a . . . she bit her lip . . . lucky coincidence for him.

Maybe he'd left her apartment and had been planning on having a horribly awkward conversation with her today about what a huge mistake he thought kissing her had been. And maybe instead he lucked out by getting called out of town. So now he was taking advantage of the opportunity to get some distance between them.

To make it clear to her that he DIDN'T want to pursue anything personal with her.

At least that's what the geeky insecure teenager in her head kept saying. And Emily couldn't get her to shut up.

Over and over on a little repeat loop she kept hearing the same thing . . . that what happened last night just happened, that it didn't mean anything. That when Hotch said they should do 'it' again sometime he really just meant eat dinner.

But then the other, more secure, adult part of her brain . . . the behavioralist . . . reminded her of the look in his eyes, the passion in his kiss, the way he'd possessively pinned her to the wall.

Like she was his.

'_Hormones,'_ came back the geeky naysayer. '_Nothing but hormones._ _You're attractive people that share a high stress job and have been spending a lot of time alone together recently.'_

'_Yeah_,' the behavioralist piped up, '_but why all the alone time if he doesn't like you? Why the muffins and the coffee and the longing glances? Why do all of those things if he doesn't like you?'_

That was about the point where Emily started to wish that she was a raging alcoholic just so she could down a bottle of vodka to shut up the voices in her head.

With a disgusted sigh she dropped her phone. And then she punched her pillow and flopped down with a huff.

Screw it.

It was obvious that she was just making herself nuts obsessing over every little thing. Clearly she didn't have enough facts to make an informed decision about what was . . . or was not . . . going on between them.

Once they finally talked she'd have a better idea about what was happening. And in the meantime . . . she turned out her light . . . she should just get some sleep.

Just as she was about to close her eyes, Emily's phone started vibrating on the nightstand.

She almost fell out of bed diving for it.

Text message . . . she opened it . . . from Hotch!

A small part of her was dismayed by the burst of happiness she felt. It wasn't like her to be so caught up in a man. She'd had too many men let her down to be one of those women.

But . . . her eyes greedily scanned his words . . . apparently she was becoming one.

'_I thought it was too late to call. I'll catch up with you tomorrow.'_

What the . . .?

Her brow wrinkled in confusion . . . that's it!?

No clue as to his unexpected, mysterious disappearance? No word on his possible return date?

And then to her distress she realized that he'd completely left her hanging on her 'I miss you.'

It's not like she'd expected him to say it back. She knew that he wasn't generally emotionally expressive like that. But he could have said, 'sorry I missed your call.' That would imply regret that they hadn't spoken, but in the same breath, there wouldn't have been an overly personal declaration of any kind. That would have been perfect for him.

But he didn't do that.

Now feeling hurt . . . and feeling stupid for feeling hurt . . . Emily stared at the phone.

Should she write back to him?

No . . . she put the phone back on her nightstand . . . she had her pride.

But then she remembered that she still didn't actually know why he was away. And all of the other personal stuff that was mucking up her thinking right now, that didn't . . . necessarily . . . have anything to do with the reasons behind his absence.

And she'd feel just awful if she found out later that something bad had happened and she was just being foolish and playing some stupid power game.

Tears pricked her eyes . . . because no matter how he felt about her, it didn't change how much she cared about him.

So she rolled over, picked up her phone again and typed him a quick note, '_hope everything's okay_,' and then she hit send.

And she waited.

She lay there, holding her phone in her hand for almost four minutes. She could tell how much time had passed because the numbers were ticking away on the little display clock.

But still . . . nothing.

Of course.

She dropped the phone next to her on the bed, rolled over . . . and screamed into her pillow.

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_A/N 2: Where in the world is Aaron Hotchner? It should be an adventure series to track him down. Like with Dora. But you know, with less backpacks. _

_Bet you weren't expecting Hotch to be MIA. I bet you thought he was going to be all awkward and uncomfortable. But no. Or at least not yet ;) The idea for this is sort of spun from the idea of Three Long Mountains, except in this one (though it couldn't be a more different story) Hotch is the one with the secret and Emily is the one in the dark. Let's all just thank God we didn't see Hotch in a black leather mini-skirt._

_As the summary indicated, I was going for a bit more of a 'realistic' approach to relationships. Not just in how they could get together. But also in how women's brains work. And men, often, just the see world as it is. Taking things on face value. But realistically, women obsess about things. We do. We know we do. We look for things sometimes to have meaning when really there is no meaning beyond what's right in front of you. Like Hotch's text, it's possible that he just meant exactly what he said, "it's too late to call, I'll talk to you tomorrow." But that's not what she sees. And once the teeniest tiniest little seed of doubt gets planted, it starts growing like a weed and you start making yourself nuts. Even when you know you're making yourself nuts and you try to shut it down, you can't help how your brain works. Am I reading my signals right? Did I just stick my foot in my mouth? Oh my God why isn't he calling me back!!? _

_And Emily (from canon - Vonnegut) is a bit insecure in her relationships with men. So these chapters where Hotch just has cameos are the exploration of the workings of Emily's mind. And there's one more of these where Emily is completely in the dark and Hotch just pops up 'off screen.' _

_I very specifically in the opening bit wrote "hey, it's me . . . Emily," just that way. Because that's how she identified herself in the season opener. She was for the first time a 'me' :)_

_I wrote the end of this last night, certainly a point where I could stop the story and be done. But I don't know. I sort of like how it's pulled together. Basically I like "them" in this world, so I might take them a few steps further. Nothing lengthy, but right now it's "done" at 5 chapters but I might take it to seven. If my muse decides she wants to play with them a little further that's what you'll get. But if she calls it a day then we're stopping at 5 :)_


	3. The Cluster

**Author's Note**: Apparently the Girl chapter was not a fluke, my block is indeed lifting. Yay!

The third chapter, picks up the next morning after Emily screaming into her pillow. This entire chapter is from Em's POV as Hotch again just makes a small cameo.

*******************************************

**The Cluster**

When Emily woke up the next morning she rolled over and stared at the ceiling for a moment.

She'd dreamt about Hotch. They were really good dreams . . . she smiled . . . pictures of them living their lives together.

They were happy.

But . . . her spirits started to fall . . . those were just dreams though. They were . . . she swallowed . . . snapshots from a world manufactured solely by her imagination.

They weren't real.

Trying to ward off the cloud of depression she could feel descending, as she lay there Emily made herself run through all of the sweet things that Hotch had said or done over the past few months.

And those moments . . . she took a breath . . . those weren't dreams.

That was reality.

Her eyes stung as she thought back . . . the _reality_ was, that he liked spending time with her, and that he had kissed her passionately.

Yesterday morning those two things had translated to the potential for a happy future with him. But now, all of those stupid little whispering doubts about his sudden and mysterious departure had screwed things up in her head. She wasn't quite sure what the kiss really meant anymore.

And that doubt . . . it was like a little ulcer in her heart.

It was eating away at her happiness.

The tears started to pool . . . she just wanted so badly for the kiss to mean what she thought it did yesterday when she woke up. That it meant that he wanted to be with her.

That he wanted to try and build that happy life with her.

But now she was terrified of setting herself up for a huge disappointment. And after what had happened she honestly wasn't sure if she could pretend anymore that she felt nothing for him but friendship. But if that's all that he wanted, if that's all he was ready for right now, then what was she going to do?

She couldn't MAKE him love her.

And unfortunately she was lying there staring at the ceiling in the exact same mental state she was last night when she went to bed. Because she still didn't have enough information to know what he was thinking. She was in limbo.

And that totally sucked.

Emily blinked away the completely unhelpful tears that were threatening to spill over. And then she rolled over to stare at her cell phone lying next to the pillow. After a moment she opened it and read over his words again.

No help there.

Though . . . a thought occurred to her . . . maybe the lack of help was in and of itself a point to keep in mind. It was something that she had forgotten yesterday. Something that she had forgotten even as she lay here feeling miserable and depressed.

Hotch was a guy.

Perhaps not a typical guy, but still a guy nonetheless. And twenty six years of dating had taught her that quite often guys did things that were completely baffling or insensitive.

But more often than not they did those things without any true intent to cause harm.

Men just don't see basic communication to be quite as complicated as women do. Most things with them are black and white . . . one plane of existence.

Women see it all as shades of grey.

Basically you could take all of the behavioral classes in the world and you still wouldn't have the first clue what thoughts were going through your boyfriend's head.

Okay, granted she might have a _slight _advantage over the average woman.

But still, she certainly wasn't a mind reader. If anything behavioral analysis was somewhat of a hindrance when it came to dating. You were always looking for the things that the other person _wasn't_ saying with words.

Trying to interpret his behavior within various contexts so that you could anticipate his next move.

That was a fabulous skill when you were hunting predators. But generally not so helpful when you were just trying to find a good man who wanted to keep his toothbrush in your bathroom for the next forty years.

And even though men and women saw the world differently, Emily knew that she wasn't the only profiler with this problem. Though she was the only _female_ profiler on the team, it was obvious from the relationship track record of the guys, that behavioral analysis was clearly NOT a magic bullet for finding your soul mate.

Dave and Hotch had four divorces between them, Derek was a serial dater and Spencer would rather talk to a serial _killer_ than a pretty girl.

So taking all of that into consideration . . . the BAU's overall pathetic record when it came to relationships . . . Emily decided that she needed to take a different approach for a moment.

A purely clinical approach.

Instead of bogging herself down in the rollercoaster of emotions that she was feeling, or trying to interpret the nuances of Hotch's recent behavior, she should go scientific.

Analyze Hotch's collective behavior towards her for the past six months, versus his collective behavior towards her for the past twenty four hours.

And after she did that, then the black and white showed her that his level of demonstrated affection had been steadily escalating these past few months.

So that meant . . . clinically speaking . . . that until she had concrete reason to believe otherwise, he at least deserved the benefit of the doubt about his intentions these past twenty four hours.

Therefore . . . the pressure on her chest started to ease up . . . there was no point in creating all of this drama in her head when it was possible that the only thing happening here was just that Hotch was . . . for a change . . . thinking like a _typical_ guy.

Which . . . though it was a bit unkind . . . basically meant that he wasn't thinking at all.

And if she didn't want to continue to drive herself nuts, then she needed to try and think like him for a minute. She needed to just stop and think like a guy for a minute.

Specifically she needed to think like THIS guy for a minute.

So in plain English, Hotch . . . a man who did not lie . . . said that he'd catch up with her today.

And that meant that they'd definitely talk today. They'd talk, she'd find out what was going on and why he'd left town so suddenly. And then hopefully he'd apologize for not talking to her earlier, or at least explain why he hadn't been able to, and when all was said and done, she'd feel really stupid for stressing out for no good reason at all.

Okay . . . a little more of the tension left her body . . . she felt a bit better now that she had a _logical _alternate explanation for his . . . utterly bewildering behavior.

The last thing she wanted to do was let her stupid insecurities cause a problem where there might not be one.

So for now she would just assume that maybe it was a man/woman communication thing. And maybe that was just something that they would have to work on in the future.

'If they had a future,' the little voice piped up. But Emily told that little voice where it could go.

She wanted no more drama right now.

So with a sigh, she pushed back the blankets. And as she padded into the bathroom, Emily reminded herself NOT to jump down his throat when he did call. Until she knew what was happening with him she really had no concrete reason at all to believe that he'd done anything but behave like a typical guy.

And . . . she pouted in the mirror . . . he was still a guy that she very much wanted to share a bathroom with for the next thirty or forty years.

All right then . . . adult Emily yelled from the bleachers . . . so don't FRIGGING screw it up!

And with that last uplifting thought, Emily jumped into the shower.

////////

Now that she'd given her situation some genuine analysis, Emily went into the office feeling slightly less neurotic than she had when she left it the day before.

Unfortunately her insecurities . . . with a healthy dose of righteous indignation . . . came roaring back again almost immediately.

And that was because of Rossi.

At the briefing Dave relayed another message from Hotch. This time it was about case assignments.

And as Dave ran down the list all of Emily's clean scientific analysis went right out the window. All she could think was . . . what the FUCK?! She got a six word text and Dave got a frigging twenty minute narrative on CASE assignments! Okay, so if Hotch had the wherewithal to do that then why the hell couldn't he have left her an actual VOICEMAIL last night telling her where the hell he was!?

_All right, all right, calm down crazy lady_ . . . rational brain yelled from the bleachers . . . _maybe he was trying to be nice and not wake you up_.

That thought almost doused her anger . . . memories of sweet Hotch . . . but then suddenly rational brain took a beat down by geeky naysayer.

_You have frigging work voicemail_ . . . she yelled . . . _and that's where he was calling Dave! So all Hotch had to do was punch in four digits to pop out of one message box and into another_. _But he hadn't done that, had he Emily? _

He hadn't taken thirty seconds to pop out of one voicemail to leave her a real message.

Emily was getting herself good and steamed at his complete thoughtlessness when suddenly Derek simultaneously broke into her little mental tantrum, and Dave's recitation.

"What's going on with him man?"

Rossi shrugged, "I honestly have no idea. He left both of his messages around midnight. This last one said he probably wouldn't be back until Monday, but 'Strauss was aware' so I didn't have to worry about it."

Knowing how much Hotch hated to have to talk to Erin, Dave figured that whatever was going on with him had to be pretty big. Otherwise he wouldn't have basically gone AWOL. He wasn't offering to consult by phone or conference into meetings.

That was bizarre. And it wasn't at all like him to go off the grid like this.

Dave was getting worried.

They were all silent for a moment. And a new voice in Emily's head . . . the danger Will Robinson voice that kept her alive kicking down doors . . . pointed out that Hotch suddenly disappearing for almost a full week was not a good sign of anything.

All of her anger immediately washed away. It was replaced by a small stab of fear in her stomach.

Something was wrong.

Frowning slightly, Reid leaned forward, "a week? That's odd. But it can't be too serious or he would have said something, right?"

It was obvious to Emily that Spencer was looking for some reassurance on this front. And she would have loved to help him out, but she was looking for some reassurance on this front herself.

But then Derek kindly provided some for both of them as he intoned from Reid's right, "not necessarily kid. You know how close mouthed Hotch is. Hell, we didn't even know Haley had left him until weeks later."

Reid looked over worriedly, "yeah, but that was something _bad_. So maybe this is something bad too."

Trying to think on the bright side, JJ cut in, "yeah, but we also found out weeks later that he was awarded that bravery citation for what happened in Philly."

As uncharacteristic as Hotch's disappearance was, JJ refused to go with the default position that something horrible had happened. Looking at the frown lines on half of the team members' faces, JJ knew that there were already enough pessimists at the table.

Somebody had to think positively.

Derek nodded firmly, "exactly. That's _exactly_ my point. Hotch is as likely to keep us in the dark about winning the lottery as he is about a death in the family."

"DEREK!" Garcia smacked him from his other side, "don't joke about somebody dying!"

Morgan shot her a look of annoyance, "I wasn't 'joking' about anything. You know that's just how Hotch is. ALL of his business is personal business. He isn't a," Derek mimed air quotes, "sharer."

Which was exactly why Morgan refused to freak out about his boss' absence. Until they had some concrete reason to believe that there was a problem, he wasn't going to start worrying.

And besides, even if there was a problem, what the hell were they going to do about it? If Hotch had wanted to share with them, he would have shared.

But he didn't.

And no matter how good their intentions, it would be a cold day in hell before Aaron Hotchner would appreciate ANYONE digging into his personal life without his permission.

That could get ugly.

So unless Hotch called someone asking for assistance, it was best to leave the man alone.

At Morgan's pronouncement there were reluctant nods of agreement around the table from everyone but Rossi and Emily.

Emily knew that their stoic leader did in fact talk to Dave quite regularly. And she too had become a confidante of Hotch's over the past few months. And though Hotch was not . . . as Morgan said . . . a 'sharer,' he wasn't quite as much of a mystery as people believed him to be.

He was a sweet, kind, sensitive man, who carried the weight of the world's sins in his heart.

And now that he had _started_ talking to her, Emily couldn't quite envision a scenario so bad in which he would just STOP talking to her.

Except . . . the little doubts crept up . . . if he was trying to send a clear message about his intensions.

Basically that he didn't have any.

And as much as that thought saddened her, the rational clear thinking part of her brain reminded her that perhaps he hadn't been in touch simply because it was a very serious matter and he'd just been too busy attending to it to get back to anyone.

Her included.

At that point Emily wasn't sure which scenario was more upsetting. The one where he so badly didn't want to be with her that he'd stop talking to her completely even if he was in trouble. Or the one where whatever was happening to him was so bad that he literally didn't have a moment to spare for a phone call of any kind.

Then she suddenly felt terribly guilty at her small mindedness. What was she thinking?

Of course the second scenario was the worst one.

And now that all of the variations of the second scenario had started rolling in her head, Emily knew that she was going to be pretty useless for a roundtable analysis of new cases.

Fortunately Dave seemed to sense that nobody was really up for an extended discussion though, so after he'd passed out the new files, he dismissed the group.

After what had happened in the briefing, Emily went back to her desk with the intention of trying to concentrate on work for a little while. They still had that call back with Interpol in a few hours and if that that ended up taking awhile, she wanted to be completely caught up on everything else.

She was relatively successful in working through her piles of paper, but mostly she was just running on autopilot. The back of her brain was constantly swirling around thoughts of Hotch and what could be going on that was so bad that he was out of town and off the grid for an entire week.

Perhaps longer.

After all each time he'd called Dave Hotch had extended things out. So it sounded like his situation was fluid. And that meant his return date could be extended again.

God, she missed him already and it had only been two days!

After about an hour and a half of relatively successful report writing amid simultaneous screen shots of nightmarish scenarios of what could have befallen Hotch running through her head, Emily decided that she needed to do something else or she was going to go crazy.

Really what she had decided . . . after that horrible realization about her small mindedness . . . was that it was time to put aside her personal neuroses and just think about him. It was painfully clear now that something was going on, and most likely whatever that something was, it was not good. So she needed to figure out what she could do to help him. All of the other stuff didn't matter right now. If he was in the midst of some kind of crisis, and . . . she felt a small stab of guilt . . . he needed her, well that's all that mattered.

So she closed up her last case file, grabbed her jacket, and headed back to Starbucks. She again got her two percent gingerbread latte with no whip, before going over to sit down at the exact same table that she'd sat at the day before.

It had the most privacy.

She took a sip from her cup. The heat from her drink ran down her throat, warming her cold body.

It was a comfort after the bitter cut of the wind.

Once her chills were gone, Emily took out her phone to call Hotch. But suddenly her hand started to clench nervously around the small silver device.

Her stomach was in knots.

It was stupid that she was so nervous. She'd known the man for three years, made out with him like their plane was going down a day and a half ago, and now she was nervous just calling him to do a personal welfare check.

Oh well . . . she scrolled down the list . . . you can't control your feelings, you can only control your actions.

She hit the green button.

And then she sat there listening as the phone rang over and over. Suddenly her heart jumped as she heard a click and then, "Emily?"

The voice was faint and echoey . . . but it was also very familiar.

So in return she squeaked, "Hotch?"

She'd been so convinced that he wouldn't pick up that she'd almost dropped the phone when he did. But she quickly recovered as she asked frantically, "hey, where are you? Is everything okay?"

There . . . she rubbed her hand across her mouth . . . the two big questions tossed out for unequivocal response.

But . . . she frowned slightly . . . there was no response.

She just got more of the echoey sound she'd heard when he said her name. And then there was static.

And then finally his voice again but it was all broken up.

". . . lose . . . . . . . tonight . . ."

And then the line went dead.

She immediately hit his number again but it bounced right to voicemail. Now feeling incredibly disappointed that her big effort at playing good (maybe) girlfriend had crashed and burned, Emily stared down at the phone.

'_Well that sucked.'_

It would figure that they actually make contact and the connection is so bad that the call dropped. And what was he trying to say?

Well, the first part was probably that he was going to lose the call. But the second part . . . she bit the inside of her cheek . . . 'tonight'? Well, he couldn't have been saying he'd be home tonight because Rossi already said that he was away until Monday. So he had to be talking about a phone call tonight.

It was the only thing that made sense.

Her brow wrinkled . . . okay, but was she supposed to call him? Or was he going to call her?

After another sip of her latte she decided that she was again being stupid. Basically she was acting like she did when she was sixteen. Terrified of doing or saying the wrong thing because then the boy that she liked wouldn't like her anymore.

Well, she certainly wasn't sixteen anymore. Far from it. She was a grown woman _trying_ to have an adult relationship. Obviously Hotch wanted to speak to her, if he didn't then he wouldn't have answered the phone when she called. So it didn't matter who called who tonight.

All that mattered was that they got to talk. So if he didn't call her then she would call him.

And with that thought she grabbed her latte and headed back to the office.

//////

Later that night Emily sat on her couch drinking her second glass of blackberry wine. She was watching _When Harry Met Sally_ and waiting patiently for her phone to ring.

But the hours had been ticking passed and now it was after 10:30 and Hotch still hadn't called.

She wasn't being stubborn about not calling him first. After she'd taken into consideration the timing of his messages to Rossi, she figured that whatever was going on, he was tied up until later in the evening. So she didn't want to call him too early and just leave another voicemail.

That would be pointless.

And after that garbled message this afternoon, she was sure that as soon as he was able to call her that he would indeed pick up the phone.

But as she watched the minute hand on her watch tick towards the quarter hour, she started to worry that by the time he was free to call, that he'd decide it was again too late to bother her.

As though she'd ever consider talking to him a bother. But he didn't know her feelings on the subject of late night phone calls from him because they hadn't discussed anything like that yet. So he was just being himself.

Being considerate.

And that was great . . . barring her little mini meltdown earlier about her work voicemail . . . that was one of the things that she loved about him.

But she really wanted . . . okay, let's be honest . . . she _needed_ to talk to him tonight.

It might be terribly selfish given that she'd now decided that he was dealing with a real problem of some kind, but she was still just twisted up in knots.

That little ulcer was getting bigger and bigger.

And no matter how many times her rational brain told her that the relationship stuff wasn't important right now, she just couldn't help how she felt.

She was in love with him.

And that was kind of a hard thing to just ignore. As much as she was trying to put it aside for the moment, she knew that it was definitely tainting all of her decisions right now. That was what was making her so nutty. That's why she'd suddenly become one of THOSE women.

She was in love with a man and she didn't know if he loved her back. She didn't even know if there was a possibility of him EVER loving her back.

But she was sure that if she could just talk to him, _really_ talk to him for a few minutes, then she'd know where they stood.

Where she stood.

And then she'd stop acting like such a crazy person. Either she'd be elated or she'd be heartbroken.

But at least she would no longer be in limbo.

Limbo was no way to live. And as she watched the minute hand tick up to 10:47 she decided that rather than risk missing another call, that she'd try calling him. God knows if he'd answer of course, but maybe she'd luck out and catch him.

So she picked up her cell and hit his number.

The phone rang so many times that she was positive it was going to go voicemail. But then she again heard the familiar click and before he could even speak she breathed his name in relief.

"Hotch."

"Hello."

Emily's throat dried up . . . that wasn't Hotch.

That was a woman.

A young woman with a German accent.

"Hello," the strange woman answering her maybe boyfriend's cell phone at 10:49 pm said again, "is there anyone there?"

Emily wanted to hang up the phone . . . and she also wanted to throw up.

But not necessarily in that order.

Of all of the horrible scenarios that had been running through her mind earlier, Hotch being with another woman REALLY hadn't made the list. But maybe that's why he wasn't calling her until late.

He was having sex with this, this . . . person.

Even though Emily couldn't stop the horrible slide show now playing in her head, all of the little voices put aside their differences to remind her that Hotch wasn't like that.

He wouldn't play with her feelings, make her think that he cared about her, and then take the week off for some romantic tryst with another woman.

That was just . . . ridiculous.

So there had to be a logical explanation for this woman answering his private phone late at night like she had every right in the world to do so. And Emily would just love to hear what that explanation was.

Her eyes started to burn . . . she'd _kill_ to hear that explanation.

After taking a shallow breath she asked quietly, "may I please speak to Aaron?"

_Come on Hotch_ . . . she whispered to herself . . . _come tell me the logical explanation. Come tell me so I don't have to go throw up all of this nice wine that I just drank_.

The woman paused, "um, hold on . . . let me . . ." and Emily heard the familiar clatter of a phone being put on the table. And then she sat there, tears pooling as her fingernails dug into her thigh until the woman came back a moment later.

"I'm sorry, he's in the shower. Can I give him a message?"

Feeling her entire body go cold, Emily shook her head as she said softly, "no . . . no message," and she disconnected the call.

All of her dreams shattered with the sound of her phone clicking shut.

She stared at it for a moment . . . and then burst into tears.

*******************************************

_A/N 2: That bastard! Oh wait, no, maybe not. Would he really do something like that? But seriously who is the German chick answering his phone at practically midnight? _

_I know that I had Emily's brain all over the place here but that was rather the point. As hard as she's trying she just can't get her head on straight. So she was uber stressed by the end and the German chick was pretty much the last straw. Though some strange woman answers your maybe boyfriend's phone at midnight and tells you he's in the shower, you'd probably be pretty upset too.  
_

_I promise that Hotch will turn up for a full appearance in the next chapter. But you know feel free to speculate about what's going on with him ;) Everyone on the team has an opinion, you must too.  
_

_My apologies to Chiroho, my one (documented) male reader for the disparaging remarks about your gender :) But I'm sure that women's brains must be just as much of a mystery to you._

_Side note: if you've never had blackberry wine, it's awesome! Plus it's like 8 bucks for the big bottle :)_

_Reviews kids, they still make the muse happy. And you know the poor thing was on life support just a few short days ago ;)  
_


	4. The Other Side of the Story

**Author's Note**: Finally, Hotch returns!

And I give a shout out now to Ecda for guessing almost perfectly what was happening with him! Hon, if I had a kewpie doll I would totally send it to you!

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**The Other Side of the Story**

Sean walked into the living room to hear his wife saying, "can I give him a message?"

His brow wrinkled as he looked over at the clock . . . it was almost eleven. Who could she be talking to at this hour?

When she hung up a second later he asked the question, "who was that?"

Ileana looked over at him, "um, I am not sure. She didn't leave a message and I caught the call on the last ring so I didn't notice the caller ID."

Sean started to nod and then his eyes widened as he noticed the phone that she was holding.

It was a blackberry.

OH SHIT!

"Um, sweetie," he cringed slightly as he asked the question that he already knew the answer to, "is that Aaron's phone?"

His brother was going to be SO pissed!

Ileana nodded as she looked over at him, "yes. It was so late I thought it might have been the hospital."

Sean tipped his head . . . okay, he really couldn't fault her logic there. But still though, his brother had two rules. Don't go into his briefcase, and do not under any circumstances, touch his phone.

These were NOT negotiable rules.

So before they had a catastrophic incident, i.e., Aaron walked into the room, Sean quickly went over and took the evil device out of his wife's hand.

"Okay," he placed the cell back on the table right where he'd seen his brother put it before he went down to take a shower, "that was good thinking sweetie but given that it wasn't the hospital, and you didn't actually take a message," Sean's nose wrinkled, "maybe we should just not mention to Aaron that you answered his phone."

Thank God she didn't take a message or else they would have had to GIVE it to him!

Despite the circumstances, Ileana's mouth quivered slightly, "liebchen, are you afraid of your big brother?"

Though Aaron was a bit serious, Ileana thought he was in fact quite a sweet man.

With a scowl, Sean immediately protested, "no!"

'Yes,' his brain automatically corrected. Aaron could totally kick his ass! And he was really quite scary when he was angry. Fortunately Ileana had never witnessed his brother losing his temper.

But of course, she hadn't grown up in the house that they had.

Aaron's vicious temper had saved Sean from more than one beating at the hands of their stepfather. And for that Sean would always be grateful, but he really didn't want to be on the receiving end of that anger unleashed. Not that Aaron's reaction to a violation of the phone rule would be anywhere near that extreme, but still, it wouldn't be pleasant.

But Sean didn't want to get into any of that with his wife now.

So he just shook his head, "I just think that Aaron wouldn't appreciate us answering his phone. That's his work phone. And given the nature of his work, you know how particular he is about people touching it."

This had come up specifically when Sean's daughter had picked it up and Aaron had nearly had a stroke. And of course he'd scared the crap out of his three year old niece when he'd barked, "NO GABBY!"

The phone had clattered to the floor and . . . her little heart broken . . . she'd immediately burst into tears.

She adored Aaron and he'd never before raised his voice to her.

But seeing his daughter so upset, Sean had felt a flash of rage that he wouldn't have previously thought possible. Though with her being so young, he'd never before witnessed somebody making her cry.

In that brief moment though, Sean was ready to see if it was possible to kick his older brother's ass. But before he'd even taken a step across the kitchen, Aaron had scooped up Gabby, hugging her to his chest, and rubbing her back as he frantically apologized for what he'd done.

"I'm sorry sweetheart. Please don't cry," he kissed the top of her head, "I didn't mean to scare you. You just can't touch Uncle's phone okay?" And then he'd turned to Sean, whispering in a near panic, "I have crime scene photos on there!"

Sean's anger had instantly vanished. Now he'd understood his brother's reaction.

And then, as he saw the guilt and distress on Aaron face, Sean had felt a wave of sympathy for him.

He was just trying to protect her from being traumatized, and he'd ended up traumatizing her in the process.

The poor bastard. Aaron never could catch a break.

So Sean had gone over to the two of them . . . her still crying and him still desperately trying to fix it . . . and he'd rubbed his daughter's back as he whispered in her ear, "it's okay baby."

And then he'd looked back up at Aaron with a sympathetic smile, "give her a scoop of strawberry ice cream and she'll love you again."

Given that incident was less than forty eight hours ago, Sean was pretty sure if Aaron discovered yet _another_ member of his family had been touching his phone, that he'd pack his bag and move to a hotel for the duration of his time here.

And Sean didn't want that to happen.

As it was, Aaron was already much too solitary. And he desperately needed to be around the family right now. It wasn't good for him to be alone. Fortunately though, with the exception of the incident two days ago, he had bonded with Gabby from the moment of his arrival.

She was the only one in the family that could get a smile out of him. And it was obvious to Sean that with all of the added stress that Aaron was missing Jack like crazy.

It was also clear him that his brother was lonely.

But even taking all of that into consideration, Sean knew that he actually needed his brother right now probably more even than his brother needed them.

Aaron was the oldest. And though Sean might have a family of his own now, he still wasn't up to making the hard calls like his brother was.

Maybe he never would be.

But he knew for sure that this week, Aaron would be the one that would decide when the doctors had done enough. And Aaron would be the one to decide when it was time to let their mother go.

Sean wasn't even sure if those were decisions that he was capable of making on his own.

He honestly didn't know what he would do if Aaron wasn't here right now. And it was already a suck ass week for everyone, and Sean sure as hell didn't want to make it any worse by causing a fight over something as ridiculously preventable as violating his brother's cell phone rule.

Ileana looked at her husband for a moment and then nodded, "okay, I guess you're right," she gave him a quick kiss before her expression softened, "I don't want to cause him any more stress."

The poor thing always seemed so heavy hearted. And this week certainly wasn't helping. If not for the time that he spent with Gabby, Ileana was sure that Aaron would not have smiled once since his arrival.

She put her hand out to her husband, "come on, we have an early day. Let's go to bed."

/////////

Hotch came out of the guest room, passing his brother and sister-in-law in the hall. And to his surprise, Ileana kissed his cheek as she said good night.

But then to Hotch's amusement, Sean gave him an apologetic smile to make up for it.

It's not as though Hotch was categorically opposed to expressions of affection from his extended family, he wasn't. He just wasn't very comfortable with expressing affection that way himself.

Well, except with Jack of course.

Basically Hotch stayed inside his little bubble and he expected other people to do the same.

But he did like Ileana. He was just going to have to get used to the fact that she was a kisser.

With as little quality time as Hotch had spent with Sean and his wife, it hadn't come up that often. In the past mostly he just saw them on big holidays and major family events. A day here or there.

And those were the types of occasions where people always hugged and kissed anyway.

It was just staying with them these past couple of days that had been the adjustment. Illeana was more outgoing and expressive than either he or Sean. With the exception of the fair hair and coloring, she was actually a bit like Emily.

That was probably why he liked her.

At the thought of Emily, Hotch checked the time on the wall and realized it was after eleven again.

'_SHIT!'_ he cursed to himself, _'he should have called her before he took his shower!'_

But then he remembered that he'd smelled like hospital disinfectant and he'd just wanted that stench off of him.

The only call he'd made before his shower had been the one to Jack.

Even though he could only see his son once a week, Hotch still called him every day. And Jack's bedtime was being stretched too late this week as it was.

Fortunately Haley was being good about that or Hotch wouldn't have had a chance to talk to his son at all. The God damn cell phones didn't work in the hospital and the roads were too treacherous to risk trying to make a call in the car.

So he really was completely disconnected for most of the day.

But now it was evening and he'd fucked up his big plans to talk to Emily. And he really did need to talk to her tonight.

Hotch stared at the glowing red numbers of the cable clock . . . 11:04 . . . she could still be up.

Either way though . . . he grabbed his phone off the coffee table . . . he should try her anyway. Otherwise the poor thing was going to start thinking that he was avoiding her. And God knows that he didn't want that.

Not only would it hurt her feelings, which would make him feel awful, but with everything that had happened the past couple of days he'd had a lot of time to think. And though he'd been unsure of what to do that night in hallway after he'd kissed her, he now had made a decision about what he wanted.

Her.

He wanted her. That was the conclusion that he'd come to yesterday afternoon as he paced in the hospital, waiting for the doctors to come out and give them an update on his mother's latest surgery.

That's when he'd realized how much he missed Emily. How much he wanted her there with him. Because he knew that if she had been there that she would have been fussing over him, and holding his hand and telling him that he needed to think positively because he was too negative.

He was always too negative.

Hotch actually had heard her voice in his head saying that to him. And even though it was just his imagination . . . it still comforted him.

And that's when he knew that he would be a fool to let her go. As far as she was concerned, they had already moved things to the next step anyway. And in the face of the tragedy he'd been dealing with this week, all of his fears about screwing up their working relationship seemed so stupid.

Work was just work.

This was his life that he was talking about. And Emily, she made him happy. She was sweet and kind and funny and smart. So smart that he could barely keep up with her sometimes.

She was perfect.

He should have been thanking God that she'd ever consent to want to be with him. And instead he had been trying to decide if he wanted to be with her.

What a fool.

Though some part of him could see looking back that he had been pursuing her for months, for some reason he just hadn't really thought anything would come of it.

After all, why would somebody so perfect want to be with someone as broken and screwed up as he was?

So he'd sort of figured that his feelings for her were one sided so there was no risk of hurting her. Until he'd kissed her and seen her reaction, he hadn't actually considered the possibility of a future with her being possible. And that's why you don't kiss pretty girls that you work with unless you know ahead of time what your intentions are towards them.

That really should be in the employee manual.

Though the employee manual outright banned the very relationship that he had now decided that he wanted to have, so it was best not to think about that book right now.

Of course if he ended up chasing her off it might not matter what he wanted at all. Emily would make the decision for both of them.

So he picked up his phone off the coffee table and dialed her number as he went into the kitchen to get a glass of water. He was mid-sip when her voicemail picked up. He disconnected and tried again.

Voicemail again.

He put down his water glass and clicked the phone shut. Suddenly it seemed unbelievably important that he talk to her tonight. There were things that he needed to say. And God knows with what was scheduled for tomorrow, and how the surgery went, he really might not be able to call Emily again for ANOTHER twenty four hours.

And that was MUCH too long to wait.

Perhaps sometime tomorrow he could find thirty seconds to call her on the payphone and say hi. But he knew that they actually needed to talk, talk, and he just wouldn't be able to do that during the day.

He had to stay close to the waiting room.

And besides that, he certainly wasn't going to have a personal conversation with her on a public payphone!

There was no privacy there at all and he didn't want everyone knowing his business. Also, he didn't want to have this conversation while she was sitting at her desk either.

So yeah . . . he nodded to himself . . . he definitely needed to say what he needed to say now, while they'd both be alone.

Most likely she was sleeping, but this was important enough that he decided he should wake her up. So he went back into his directory and hit her house number.

But . . . he frowned as the phone rang over and over . . . she didn't pick up her house phone either.

'_What the hell? Where was she?'_

Hotch knew that they weren't away because if they had a case then Dave definitely would have left him a message.

Now somewhat concerned . . . and perplexed . . . Hotch tried her cell again.

Still no answer.

He stared at the floor, running scenarios through his mind and then finally he hit on one that made sense.

She was in the tub.

Her cell phone was downstairs and she hadn't brought the house phone in with her.

Yes . . . he nodded to himself . . . that made perfect sense. She was taking a bath.

And as he suddenly pictured a wet, naked Emily, his battered spirits picked up slightly.

'_Well, that was definitely something to look forward to seeing. Okay Aaron, but what to do right now?'_

After another minute Hotch decided he'd just have to leave her a voicemail. He had specifically not done that last night because the things he wanted to say he most definitely didn't want to say to a machine. But he really couldn't let another day pass with her in the dark. And if she wasn't getting to a phone tonight, it was best that she got a message from him rather than nothing at all.

So he dialed her cell phone once more, cleared his throat, and just started talking.

"Hey, it's me. I'm sorry I wasn't able to get back to you earlier. And I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to call you before I left but everything happened so fast. I'm in Westchester at my brother's. My uh," his voice started to get husky, "my, uh mother's in the hospital. I got a call a few hours after I left you, she'd fallen down the stairs. She broke her hip and her leg and she fractured her skull in two places," he scrubbed his hand down his face as he said sadly, "she's not doing well, Em. She hasn't regained consciousness. They've already had two surgeries to relieve the pressure on her brain but they don't," his voice caught, "well, they don't really think that the prognosis is very good."

There was more he could have said there, but he knew that she would understand.

He paused . . . this was the hard part . . . he hadn't told a woman he had feelings for her in twenty five years. As he recalled, he was just as nervous then as he was now.

So he took a breath to steel his courage, and then he said softly, "I miss you. I miss you more than you can know. And I wish you were here because I'm having an unbelievably shitty week and you always make me feel better." He sighed, "I really didn't want to have this conversation with your voicemail but I was afraid that with everything planned for tomorrow that I'd miss catching up with you again," his voice started to get husky again, "and I was afraid that if I didn't talk to you today that by the time I got home it would be too late to continue what we started the other night."

Realizing that sleep deprivation and his overwrought nerves and were starting to get the better of him, Hotch cleared his throat before he started wrapping up.

"Anyway, I'm sorry I missed you. And I'm sorry to leave such a long message but with traffic and the weather we haven't been getting back from the hospital until late. And I had to call Jack first because it was already past his bedtime. I really wish I could call you during the day but there's no reception in the hospital. And," he huffed humorlessly, "it's about ten below with the wind chill so it's kind of hard to make a call outside. But tomorrow I'll try to get to a coffee shop or something for a couple minutes to try you again. Otherwise I promise we'll catch up tomorrow night. You can call my brother's if you want. I'll text his number when I hang up. His name is Sean. And if a woman answers that's his wife, Ileana," he swallowed, "okay, well, I guess that's it," his voice faded for a moment before he added softly, "sweet dreams Emily."

And he hung up, hoping that he hadn't just made an ass out of himself.

*******************************************

_A/N 2: Come on! You knew I wouldn't make Hotch a two timing cad! I would have had to label this bad boy AU :) Of course he had a good reason for his seemingly inconsiderate behavior. He's got this horrible thing going on with his mom. _

_Now, given what is going on with his mom, you can see now how I could extend the story out a bit further. As I've said, I have written a chapter (the next one) which could wrap everything up. But I'm leaning towards maybe staying with them another day or so. After I clean up the next bit we'll see if I want to continue playing in this world. Either way, I do promise that next chapter they will once again have a scene where they are both in the same zip code! I think this is the longest I've ever separated them anywhere._

_In the Girl'verse I have Hotch from Virginia and his mom retired down to Charleston, South Carolina (which is – fun fact - where TG was born). But I decided to have them be from New York in this world just because the one time we saw his brother he was living in NY so it was a perfectly acceptable alternate theory of Hotch's upbringing. And besides, I needed it to be really crappy weather and south of Pennsylvania it just doesn't get cold enough to ever really have a situation where it's regularly below zero with the wind chill. However, the northeastern United States does have a few cold snaps every winter where it is that dangerously frigid outside. And Hotch needed to have a damn good reason why he couldn't use his phone outside the hospital and I thought frostbite would count :) _

_And I gave Sean a family because again, it's been a few years since we've seen him so he's really had plenty of time to settle down. His wife was originally going to be "Alicia" but she was rechristened for Ileanna22 because she was such a good kid when I had my little bout of writer's block. So there you go hon, as thanks for your support, you got to be a Hotchner for a day! Or two, you might turn up in the next chapter as well :)_

_This weekend I'll definitely get a Girl chapter up and possibly either one here, or over in Three Long Mountains. All I'll promise is Girl though :)_


	5. The Reunion

**Author's Note:** I finally got this cleaned up. The draft was done last weekend but I just couldn't get it to my satisfaction. I think we're good now :)

**CHALLENGE ANNOUNCEMENT**: Go check out the challenge forum (you can get to it from my profile) and read bonus #7. You'll see that even if you don't write yourself, you can submit ideas for stories that you'd like to see somebody else write. I already put up one idea and somebody snatched it up in less than a day so I think it would be great if we'd get some more ideas up there. I might grab one myself :)

* * *

**Prompt Set #11**

Show: Zoey 101

Title Challenge: Rumor of Love

* * *

**The Reunion**

Emily stared out the window of the plane, watching as they cleared the tarmac so the luggage carriers could roll up.

The snow was coming down so hard the mini plows could barely keep up with it. In fact, as she looked out the window now, she was actually amazed that they hadn't been diverted to another airport.

Though it had been a bumpy landing she hadn't realized just how bad the weather was until they were on the ground.

Actually though . . . she tipped her head . . . bumpy was a bit of an understatement.

The oxygen masks dropped, the overhead cabinets' popped open, three women (and one man) screamed and the guy across the aisle threw up into his laptop case.

It was definitely not an experience she wished to repeat.

But they'd landed at JFK in one piece, and that was really all that mattered. And now she was waiting for her chance to deplane.

And this time alone . . . without the drama of the last fifteen minutes of the descent . . . once again gave her the opportunity to kick herself for being such an idiot.

Her eyes started to sting as she stared out at the whipping storm . . . really, to kick herself for thinking such awful things about Hotch when his mom was so sick.

Last night, after she'd dropped the phone and burst into tears, she'd thought that was it, it was all over. She had been a complete fool.

Not only did he not love her . . . he didn't care about her at all.

And for a moment she tried so hard to hate him because she thought it would make it easier. But she just didn't have it in her.

There was no anger . . . all she felt was humiliation and pain.

An indescribable pain that hurt so much she couldn't even think straight. So she'd curled up into a ball and cried.

It had been years since she'd had her heart broken, and it hurt just as much as she remembered.

Then not five minutes later . . . just as her tears were starting to taper off . . . she saw Hotch's name begin flashing over and over on her caller ID.

House phone and cell phone . . . back and forth he went.

And even though that's all she'd wanted for days . . . just to talk to him . . . she couldn't pick up. As stupid as it sounded to her now, she was convinced that he was off with some other woman. That he'd been washing off her scent when Emily called. And with those images in her mind, she just couldn't bear the thought of hearing his voice.

Of hearing him actually say that he never cared about her at all.

So she ignored her phones . . . but he just kept calling and calling.

It wasn't until later that she realized that should have been a sign to her that something else was happening.

That something was wrong.

But at that point she was too blinded by her pain to think straight. So she'd pulled on her sneakers, grabbed her gun, and went for a run.

In her haste to get away from her apartment . . . to get away from him . . . Emily forgot to take her jacket. And being out in just her t-shirt and sweat pants she'd begun to freeze the moment she stepped out the front door of her building.

But still she kept going down the front steps and out to the street.

The sidewalks were icy and the streets were dark and deserted and she knew that she was being stupid. But she didn't care. She just ran and ran trying to clear her mind of all thoughts related to the man who had broken her heart.

The moment her lungs began to burn though, a thought suddenly came to her from the little voice that sat in the bleachers.

'_Hotch would be so upset if he knew that you were out in the cold right now by yourself.'_

Emily tried to push that voice away, telling it that he didn't care what happened to her at all.

But just like the ringing phones . . . the voice kept coming back again and again.

Reminding her that he always pushed her behind him when they went on a raid. That even though she carried a gun, he always walked her to her car to make sure she was safe. And when he brought her home, before he left the parking lot he always waited for her phone call that she was inside her apartment.

And then finally she remembered that last night that she'd seen him. And for a change she remembered not the passionate kiss that he gave her, but the sweet one later.

The one where he kissed the back of her hand and then a few minutes later he told her that he'd see her in the morning. That was the last thing he'd done before he left her at her front door that night.

He said that he'd see her in the morning.

The little voice pointed out that those weren't the actions of a man who didn't care about her.

And as she ran through the streets of Arlington, her tears frozen on her face . . . those images playing in her mind . . . she'd started to wonder if maybe she'd made a mistake.

Not in initially trusting him with her heart . . . but in NOT trusting him tonight.

Hotch wasn't any of the terrible things that her broken heart was trying to make her think that he was. He wasn't a cheat, and he wasn't cruel, and he wouldn't play with her feelings.

Even if he hadn't wanted to get involved with her, he would have been man enough to simply tell her that to her face. He wouldn't have just taken off with some woman and hoped that she'd get the hint. That was the coward's way out.

And Aaron Hotchner was not a coward.

So many years with so many crappy boyfriends, and Emily had become hardwired to believe that men were going to treat her badly. It had become her default position. And she'd let herself forget that this wasn't just any man.

This was Hotch.

And once she started thinking with her brain again and not her broken heart, she realized that she had to go home and see if he left her a message. When that woman had first picked up his cell, Emily had been convinced that that there was a good reason that some strange girl would be answering his phone late at night. Well, maybe that good reason was sitting there as a blinking light on her voicemail.

So almost forty five minutes after she'd left her apartment, she'd turned and run home again.

And as she'd started to listen to his message, the tears had once again begun to run down her face.

But those were tears of shame.

How could she have thought so little of him? And then when he said that he missed her, and that he wanted her there with him . . . she'd started to sob.

His mom was dying and she hadn't taken his call because somebody else had picked up his phone.

At that point she wasn't even sure if she deserved him.

And by the time she'd finished listening to his voicemail . . . and realized the woman was most likely his sister-in-law . . . Emily was positive that she didn't deserve him.

But still . . . he was all that she wanted. And apparently he wanted her too, so she needed to make this right before it was too late.

As desperately as she'd wanted to call him back right then, she'd known it much too late. It was almost 1:30.

She'd stubbornly . . . and stupidly . . . avoided listening to his message for almost two hours. And if he had to be at the hospital early, she didn't want to take away the few hours of rest he clearly would need in order to deal with his mom's situation.

So she'd sat there, tears still streaming, as she played his message two more times, wondering how she was ever going to make this up to him.

He'd be so hurt if he knew all the ridiculous, awful things that had been going through her head for the past two days.

But then as she listened to his words that third time she'd suddenly realized that there was still a way to make it up to him. Even if he didn't actually know that there was anything to make up.

She could go be with him.

That's what he said he wanted, so that's what she would do.

She'd go support him and love him and take care of him. All of the things that she should have been doing the past forty eight hours while she was instead acting like a completely self involved neurotic basket case.

So she'd immediately gotten on the Internet and booked herself a ticket to New York on the commuter flight leaving at five thirty am. And then she'd called every hospital in the New York metro area until she'd tracked down the one with Hotch's mother. After she was sure that she knew where she was going, she sent Hotch a text message telling him how sorry she was about his mom. And she promised that they would talk soon.

That wasn't a lie. They would talk when she got there. But she'd wanted to surprise him because she was sure that if he knew that she was coming, then he'd tell her that the trip was too far and she should stay home. But she'd heard the pain in his voice.

He needed her.

She'd wanted to sign her message love, but it was probably too soon for that. So instead she just wrote, 'XX OO, Emily.'

Hugs and kisses were as good as an 'I love you'.

At that point it was nearly three and she was exhausted from the emotional rollercoaster she'd been on that night. But there was still so much to do before she could even consider resting her eyes.

That could wait until she got to the plane.

The last thing she did before she ran up to shower and pack was leave Dave a voicemail that she had to take some personal time but that she'd call him later and let him know when she'd be back.

With Hotch already out, Dave probably wasn't going to be happy about that. But, he could deal.

She had more important concerns.

After she packed, Emily grabbed a cab to the airport and then sat around for two hours waiting for them to get clearance to board. Even though it was quiet in Virginia, the weather up north was screwing up the whole eastern seaboard. And she was about five minutes away from just catching a cab to Union Station to get the train, when suddenly the agent called out to get their boarding passes ready. And twenty minutes later they were taxing down the runway.

And now she was here in New York.

It had been eight hours since she got Hotch's message. Hopefully he'd been sleeping for the majority of that time. She'd wanted to get to the hospital the same time that he would be getting there, but now she knew that she'd be arriving at least a couple hours after him.

It was unlikely that she could stay with Hotch for the duration of his time here, but at the very least she wanted to be with him today for his mom's surgery.

After all, that's what good girlfriends did . . . they supported the men that they loved.

And though the term still sounded funny, she was quite sure from Hotch's message that's what she now was.

The girlfriend.

She was also an exhausted girlfriend. She'd only caught a half hour nap on the plane before the turbulence nearly tossed her out of her seat.

Even being an experienced flyer, that first violent jolt had still scared the crap out of her. But honestly, beyond any fears for her own safety, all she could think was how upset Hotch would be if she got herself killed coming to visit.

Well, he'd definitely be upset in principle. But specifically, he'd probably never forgive himself if she got killed coming to see _him_.

So for his sake, she'd done something that she hadn't done in decades . . . a repeat loop of the Our Father and the Hail Mary.

It didn't matter how many years it had been since she'd said the words, she still knew them by heart.

And though she kind of doubted that the plane would have plummeted to the earth without her recitation of prayers from her youth, there's nothing to say that they hadn't helped. So she decided when she got to the hospital that she'd visit the chapel and light a candle for his mom.

There's nothing to say that wouldn't help too.

As the aisle finally emptied and she was able to make her way off the plane, Emily did a mental run down of next steps.

Catch a cab into the city . . . which should be nearly impossible given the weather . . . and then somehow get to the upper East Side before the sun went down.

But first . . . she started up the gangplank . . . bathroom.

//////

Getting the cab was as difficult as expected. But thirty minutes later . . . as she stood outside freezing her ass off . . . she finally got to the head of the line. And then the guy behind her tried to push her out of the way.

Bad move.

She flashed her gun and then her badge. And she did it in that order just to scare the shit out of him.

He'd stuttered a "sorry officer" but she decided that today, apologies weren't good enough. She was exhausted, freezing cold and so annoyed at his obnoxious behavior . . . fucking asshole . . . that she sent him all the way to the end of the line of people waiting.

She didn't ordinarily use her badge for 'general policing,' but . . . she jumped into the backseat of the cab . . . in this instance she felt that punishing him from his douchbagery was justified.

Emily leaned forward, "Beth Israel please."

/////////

It took another hour to get into town, and another forty minutes to get to the upper east side. Finally she got so anxious that she just threw a bunch of twenties at the cabbie, jumped out and started walking the last five blocks.

The wind was whipping around her face and she was pretty sure that she was going to have frostbite on her fingers if she didn't get inside soon.

She really should have worn two pairs of gloves.

Through her squinting, Emily could see that the snow was definitely getting ahead of the plows. If this kept up the city was going to become a parking lot within a few hours.

As she got to the main entrance of the hospital, she saw three cars slide into a minor fender bender. And that's when she began to honestly wonder if they'd even be able to get out of there later.

But . . . she entered the hospital shivering as she pulled off her gloves and started rubbing her hands . . . that wasn't a concern right now.

After hoisting her bag over her shoulder, Emily went up to the admitting desk and pulled out her badge for the third time that day.

Her fingers were so cold that it took two tries before she was able to get it out of the front pocket of her jeans.

"Hi," she used her most ingratiating smile, "I'm looking for Eileen Hotchner's family. I know that Mrs. Hotchner is having surgery this morning so if you could please direct me to the correct waiting room."

She wasn't family so the badge was the only surefire way to get information about where she needed to go in the hospital.

The nurse looked at her credentials and then at the computer before she typed in a few words.

"Uh," she ran her finger across a line on the screen, "Mrs. Hotchner's surgery began two hours ago," the nurse glanced back over at her, "the waiting area is on four."

Emily nodded, "thanks."

And then she hurried over to the elevators, leaving puddles of slush on the floor behind her.

///////

Hotch pulled out his phone and stared down at Emily's message for the tenth time that morning. And just like the first time, he felt a warm glow in his chest as he stared at the little Xs and Os.

Hugs and kisses.

Just like the air kiss of the other night, it was so perfectly Emily.

He snapped the phone shut . . . God he missed her.

And he so badly wanted to call her back, but he definitely couldn't leave the hospital right now. They were only in hour two of a six hour surgery. The nurse had come out twenty minutes ago to tell them that things were going along, "as well as can be expected."

Hotch didn't think that was a particularly encouraging phrase, but he was trying really hard to keep a positive thought.

The update could have been worse. At least that's what Emily would be telling him if she were here right now, so that's what he was trying to tell himself.

After his mom got out of surgery she'd be moved to recovery and then Hotch could slip out for a few minutes this afternoon to call Emily back.

If he didn't talk to her today he was going to go nuts. It was especially hard watching Sean and Ileana together when he missed Emily so much.

Fortunately for him . . . if not for Sean . . . Ileana had left to take Gabby to her pre-school class. The two of them would be gone until after lunch.

If they got back at all.

Sean told Ileana if the weather was too bad that she should just take the train straight home. Though if the weather was that bad, Sean and Hotch might leave the car there that night and take the train home themselves.

This storm was supposed to drop at least a foot of snow.

Hotch decided to take a break from pacing in the waiting room to try pacing out in the hallway again. Television held absolutely no appeal for him, and it was nearly impossible to concentrate on his work. Even though this was day three, more than half of the case files he'd brought with him were still just sitting in his bag untouched.

A bag that was sitting in the chair that he had been pacing back and forth in front of for the past ten minutes.

And he really didn't feel like lugging everything with him right now. But of course he couldn't leave his bag lying around unattended either.

So he zipped it up and went over to drop it into his brother's lap with a look, "_don't_ open it. I'll be back in fifteen."

Not that he didn't trust his brother, but people were always curious about his work.

The public's grim fascination with serial killers was beyond him. The reality of the evils they perpetrated was so far outside the realm of anything that the layperson people could comprehend.

And Hotch didn't want his brother . . . no matter how old he was . . . to be exposed to those horrors.

Sean put down his book as he nodded, "trust me, I won't open it," his eyes dropped down to the bag full of nightmares before he looked back up at his brother, "I don't want to know why you don't smile Aaron."

Hotch stared at him for a moment. And then he patted his arm, "it's not just one thing Seanie," and before his brother could respond, Hotch turned and walked into the hall.

For a minute he just stood there trying to decide what to do. There wasn't much on the floor besides anxious families crying and pacing. Finally he decided on coffee.

Or . . . he started walking . . . maybe tea.

He'd drunk way too much coffee over the past few days. It probably wasn't doing anything for his blood pressure.

That was a thought that came to him in Emily's voice too.

As Hotch headed down towards what he now knew were the only decent vending machines in the hospital, he saw a woman get off the elevator.

His brow wrinkled . . . in profile she looked awfully familiar.

Emily stepped off the elevator and looked to the left . . . okay now where . . . her eyes widened in surprise.

Hotch.

Okay, she didn't actually expect to run into him just as she walked off the elevator. And the poor thing looked just awful.

But despite the reasons for her visit . . . and the obvious strain he was under . . . she couldn't help the burst of joy she felt at seeing him again.

Her fingers curled into a little wave, and a shy smile touched her lips as she said hesitantly, "hi."

Though she was sure that coming to him was the right thing to do, it was still kind of scary to actually do it. This was a big step.

This was a declaration.

Stunned, Hotch stared at her for a moment.

Emily . . . it was Emily.

It was like he'd just conjured her up out of his imagination. But then it started to sink in . . . she was really here.

And that's when he realized that she was standing much too far away from him.

Shaking off his shock, he started walking closer, "how did you . . . what are you doing here?" He asked in wonder.

Hotch stopped in front of her and Emily looked up at him a little self consciously, "well . . . your message said that you wished I was here, so . . ." she gave him a little smile, "I'm here."

His eyes began to burn . . . she dropped her entire life and flew up in a snowstorm just because he said he missed her. That was . . . something.

It might even be love.

He tentatively reached out and ran his fingers down her arm. And when she dropped her bag on the floor, he leaned down and picked her up, closing his eyes as he squeezed her tightly to his chest.

Her arms slipped around his neck and he whispered against her ear, "thank you for coming."

Emily's eyes began to water as she whispered back, "I'm just sorry I wasn't here earlier," she turned her face into his neck, breathing him in before she added, "and honey, I'm so sorry about your mom." She leaned back slightly so she could see his face, "how's she doing?"

If Hotch's appearance was any indication, not good.

Their noses almost brushed as he shook his head, "I don't know. She's still in surgery. The nurse came out a little while ago and said things were going, quote 'as well as could be expected,' he lowered Emily to the ground and his eyes floated to a point over her shoulder. "I keep telling myself to think positively but," his gaze snapped back to hers as his voice caught, "I really don't think this surgery is going to work."

She bit her lip as her fingers softly stroked down his cheek, "you have to keep a good thought Aaron. It doesn't do you, or her, any good to start preparing yourself for the worst. Not now. Not when there's still hope. And the doctors wouldn't have even tried another surgery if there wasn't hope, right?"

If he gave up on his mother now, Emily knew that he'd never forgive himself if she pulled through later.

At her words of support his heart began to fill . . . this is what he needed with him all the time.

Emily.

He gave her a watery smile as he nodded, "right, you're right. They wouldn't have done the surgery if there was no hope."

She patted his cheek as she gave him a little smile, "that's right. And you keep that thought in your head."

They stared at each other for a moment, their gazes burning into each other, and then for the second time in his life Aaron Hotchner was leaning down and kissing Emily Prentiss. But it was nothing like the passionate kiss of the other night.

This was just a simple kiss hello.

As amazing as that first kiss had been, this one almost meant more because it was a sign that this was something real. It wasn't a mistake or a one time only deal.

And besides that, it was so nice just to be able to kiss someone hello again. It was the one thing that he still missed about being married.

The kiss hello and the kiss goodbye.

Somebody cares that you're leaving . . . somebody missed you while you were gone.

When you had it, it was something that you took for granted. But he was sure that he wouldn't take it for granted again.

It had always seemed like such a little thing . . . but now he knew that it wasn't. It was a sign that you were somebody's world. And if he was going to be involved with Emily then he would have that again.

Somebody to kiss hello.

A somebody who had soft lips that tasted like strawberries. His eyes crinkled as he murmured against her mouth, "you taste good." She smiled as she slowly pulled back, "strawberry Chapstick. Do you want some?"

The corner of his lip quirked up as he kissed her once more before whispering, "thanks, but I think I'll just have some more of yours later."

The soft smile she gave him came with a slight tinge of pink on her skin. And he ran the back of his hand over her cheek before he frowned, "Em, you're freezing."

'_Of course she is you idiot. It's probably fifteen below with wind from this storm.'_

That was also the point where he noticed that her hair and coat were damp with melted snow. He'd been so surprised to see her that he hadn't picked up on either of those things at first.

His observational skills were apparently a bit rusty.

He pulled her against his body again and began rubbing her back to warm her up. And then he murmured against her hair, "we'll go get you a coffee in a minute."

As he tried to take the chill from her body, Emily closed her eyes and huddled against him in a moment of bittersweet joy.

As wonderful as he was being . . . as much as she loved him in that moment . . . all she could think about was her behavior the night before. And what he would have done if he'd caught her outside in the freezing cold at midnight.

First he would have yelled at her for being so careless with her safety. And then he would have done this.

Fussed over her as he warmed her body with his own.

No . . . she felt her eyes begin to water again . . . she absolutely did not deserve him.

Hotch loosened his grip on her slightly so he could lean down to pick up her bag. Then he slipped his arm around her shoulder before he turned to kiss her temple.

"Let's go drop your bag off with my brother and then we'll run down to the cafeteria for a minute."

He was just going to go to the vending machines but she'd probably been traveling for hours and would need something to eat.

Something hot.

To hide her watery eyes, Emily turned her face against his chest as she murmured back, "okay."

All of her neuroses the past few days could have caused to lose this. And that would have been a tragedy.

He tightened his hold on her as they started down the hall. Then he turned to whisper against her hair.

"If I haven't said it yet, I just wanted you to know how happy I am to see you."

Her arm slipped around his waist, and she leaned up to kiss his cheek before she whispered back.

"Ditto."

* * *

_A/N 2: I thought it was so funny that people thought she'd be so angry that she'd delete his message. It NEVER occurred to me to do that! I've certainly avoided messages, but I've never deleted one outright because I was angry. Which I guess was fortunate for the story because I was the one writing Emily and I made sure that she DID listen to the message :) _

_Given all the crap I'm putting Hotch through now I just couldn't leave him all by himself up there in NY so I had to put her on the plane. And this was the point where I was thinking about ending the story. Maybe with just a little epilogue to wrap up what happens with his mom. But then I got another scene in my head with them and decided to just carry out the remaining time that Hotch's mom is in the hospital. So I have two more chapters in 'states of doneness.' We might get four more in total but I'd like to have this wrapped by the end of the month so it won't go above nine._

_There will definitely be a Girl chapter this weekend, and hopefully one more of something else. I have a few things near completion so if the weather stays crappy I should get something else wrapped up :)_


	6. The Pursuit of Happiness

**Author's Note**: Let's all stop and take a moment to thank the gods that invented auto recover. As you'll see at the end, I've been having some tech 'issues'. The most recent of which happened literally as I was shutting down this chapter (and I'm on a different computer than the one I reference below). Something just happened and I watched, in horror, as the entire chapter just deleted itself! Like if you just held your finger down on the delete key to clear 10 pages of writing. It was very upsetting, and it wouldn't stop! I did my best impression of "simulating calm" as I rebooted. Again, thank God for autorecover after a crash landing. So I ended up losing a little bit of the last bit I'd written but nowhere near what I thought had disappeared. I don't really think I could have recreated this chapter if I'd lost it completely. I would have been way too depressed. The story might have come to a grinding halt.

As to the A/N that actually relates to the story, this picked up immediately from the last one.

* * *

**The Pursuit of Happiness**

Hotch led Emily into the waiting room and paused for a moment. He hadn't introduced a woman to his brother since he'd brought Haley home on break. That was twenty four years ago.

Sean was eleven.

As he thought back to that day, Hotch remembered that his little brother had barely so much as glanced at his future sister-in-law before he went back to watching television.

He was watching the A-Team and it really wasn't a good time to disturb him.

And as Hotch eyed his brother staring up at the flat screen hanging from the wall, he hoped for the same complete lack of interest today.

It's not that he didn't want Emily and Sean to get to know each other. He did. Well, eventually he did.

Hotch just didn't want to answer a lot of questions right now.

He and Emily hadn't had a chance to really talk yet themselves about what was happening, or where things were going. And he just didn't want to force the discussion by making up answers about their relationship in the middle of a hospital waiting room.

That seemed a surefire way of screwing things up before they'd really even had a chance to get started.

When Hotch stopped for a second, Emily started to scan the room to see if she could figure out on her own which one was his brother.

It wasn't as easy as she would have thought. The waiting area was a pretty decent size and there were maybe twenty or so people sitting in little clusters around the room. Though only about half of them were white males, that was still a lot of faces to catalogue in a split second. But then her gaze caught on a man sitting alone and she knew instantly that he could only be a Hotchner.

The same jet black hair, the same piercing dark eyes and high cheek bones . . . and it went without saying that he was very attractive.

It was clear that he and Hotch came from the same gene pool.

Though . . . Emily glanced at the man to her left . . . her new boyfriend was definitely the handsomer of the two. Now granted, she might have been a bit prejudiced but she still felt on an objective aesthetic scale that Hotch would win two to one in a poll.

That was about the point where Emily realized that her brain had wandered down a somewhat insensitive path given the nature of her visit to the hospital today.

Focus Emily . . . she berated herself as they began walking again . . . they have a seriously ill mother. Even if they didn't know what she was thinking, it still seemed wrong to have such shallow thoughts.

"Sean," Hotch called out when they were halfway across the room, "this is my . . . my . . ."

And he stammered for a split second as they approached, unsure of how to introduce Emily. He didn't want to say girlfriend. It was probably the most apt term but everything was still a little too new to be entirely comfortable making that pronouncement to a room full of strangers.

Again, they hadn't had a chance to talk yet so he decided that the simplest truth would do. And as they stopped in front of Sean he smoothly finished the sentence, "this is my Emily."

If nothing else, her unsolicited appearance today assured him that much was true. She was his Emily.

The rest they could discuss later.

Emily felt a flood of happiness at his introduction, and she had to clamp down on her lip to hide the smile that wanted to slide onto her face.

Again, given the circumstances it wasn't the time for such happy thoughts.

But later . . . she squeezed his fingers . . . later, she'd show him how much that had meant to her.

Sean's eyes widened in surprise as he stared up at them . . . _his_ Emily! Since when did his brother have a girlfriend?!

_Not important right now Sean! Be polite!_

Realizing he was being rude . . . at least a few seconds had passed since Aaron had stopped talking . . . Sean quickly slapped on a smile as he stood up and put his hand out, "Sean Hotchner."

His brother definitely had good taste. Even with the circles under her eyes she was beautiful.

Emily gave Hotch's brother a little smile as she shook his hand, "Emily Prentiss."

Otherwise known as 'Hotch's Emily,' a happy little voice in her head added. If only she'd known that she was 'his' Emily two days ago.

It would have saved her a lot of needless heartache.

There was a slightly awkward pause after the two of them shook hands. And as Sean sat back down, Hotch could tell from the look on his face that he had questions. But Hotch had already decided that he didn't want to stand around and answer any questions at the moment.

So now that the introductions had been made, he moved on to the sole reason that he'd returned to the room four minutes after he'd left it.

He dropped Emily's bag at Sean's feet, "watch this one too."

Given the eyebrow his brother was giving him, Sean deduced that this woman also shared Aaron's horrible job. And though he felt pretty solid about his assumption, Sean's brow still quirked up as he looked over at the attractive brunette, "I take it yours is packed with little nightmares as well?"

Might as well get confirmation on the work connection on his own because it was obvious that Aaron wasn't about to spill his guts.

Man . . . Sean thought to himself . . . where was Ileana when he needed her?! She would have just flat out asked this Emily woman everything they needed to know. At this point in the conversation they would have already known her job, her birthday, if she had any children, and whether Aaron slept on the right side of the bed or the left.

Emily gave Hotch's brother a sheepish smile, "uh, yeah, sorry."

Yes, confirmation! Sean congratulated himself . . . Ileana would be proud.

As Sean patted himself on the back he simultaneously shot Emily a wink as he tucked her bag under his chair, "it's okay, I'm getting used to playing nanny," he looked up at Aaron, "you're taking her to the caf?" At his brother's nod, Sean started digging into his pocket, "can you get me a coffee and a muffin please?"

Since the accident they'd been leaving for the hospital every morning at an ungodly hour. And when he wasn't in the midst of family crises, Sean was in the restaurant business, which meant he usually slept until at least nine.

Six am this morning had been WAY too early for him to even consider food.

"Of course," Hotch said before he waved his hand, "but put your money away Seanie, I'll get it."

On average he saw his little brother three times a year. The least he could do was buy him breakfast.

Sean tipped his head, "'k, thanks. Corn if they have it, blueberry if they don't."

That was nice of him. Though now that Sean thought about it he realized that not once in his life had he ever paid for anything if Aaron was in the room when the bill arrived.

He huffed to himself . . . big brothers.

"Okay," Hotch nodded as he took Emily's hand and turned to give her a little smile, "come on, let's go get something to warm you up."

She smiled back, "I really just want some coffee," then she quickly added as she saw his eyebrow going up, "but food sounds good too."

The eyebrow went back down and he squeezed her hand so she knew that acquiescing now on the food issue was definitely the way to go.

Just as they started out of the room she called back over her shoulder, "it was nice meeting you Sean."

He nodded, "ditto. My wife will be here soon," he shot his brother a smirk, "you two can chat."

Take that big bro. They'd had a shitty few days and a little lighthearted family gossip was just the thing they needed to take their mind off things.

Hotch rolled his eyes as he tugged Emily towards the door muttering to himself, "pain in the ass."

Emily chuckled softly as she leaned against his side. It was nice to see Hotch in such a domestic role. She'd never seen him with his son so she didn't know what he was like as a dad. But now she was getting to see him with another part of his family.

It was sweet.

After they stepped back into the corridor they started for the elevator that Emily had just exited shortly before. The slight bit of irritation Hotch had felt for his brother began to fade away as he felt the warmth of Emily's hand in his.

Just having that little bit of contact with her was lightening his heart.

Even though nothing had actually changed with his mother's situation, things didn't seem quite so bad with Emily now there with him.

It was easier to keep that good thought that she mentioned when he didn't feel so alone.

Being around his family should have helped make him feel more connected. But it had actually made things even worse than when he was at home. At least there he had Jack. But here, seeing that Sean now had the life that he had lost . . . well, it had only served to make him feel more isolated.

_More_, alone.

Not only was seeing Gabby making him miss his son like crazy, but seeing Ileana fussing over Sean had made him miss Emily even more too.

Beyond that though . . . as much as he loved Sean . . . being with his little brother was like being at work.

It was expected that he was in charge. That he would make all of the decisions.

That he would take all of the responsibility if things went wrong.

But that was okay . . . he nodded to himself . . . he was the oldest. That was his job, to look after Seanie. That was not something that he resented.

It was just his life.

Sometimes though, he just wanted to let go of all that for a little while.

Being the boss, being the dad, being the big brother, it was hard always being in charge. Always wondering if the choices you were making were the right ones, if you were making them for the right reason.

If you'd regret them later.

Father, chief, agent, brother, uncle, ex-husband . . . his eyes stung for a moment . . . son. Those were the roles he filled for everyone else. But with Emily he'd discovered that he didn't have to play a part. She was accepting of his short comings, and she never made demands on him.

Emily lessened his burdens, she didn't add to them. And he felt like maybe, with her help, he could once again figure out who he was outside of all the hats he wore.

That would be nice.

After he hit the button for the elevator he looked down at her . . . and to think he'd almost passed up this opportunity.

What a fool he would have been.

As they waited for the elevator Emily she tipped her head onto Hotch's shoulder and sighed.

God she was tired.

The doors slid open as she thought to herself . . . maybe when they got back upstairs she could rest her eyes for a few minutes in the waiting room. After all, it was brain surgery so it had to be at least a few more hours before they finished. The most important thing was to be there for Hotch when he needed her.

And she wouldn't be much good to him if she fell unconscious JUST as the surgeon came out to give him the prognosis.

They stepped inside the car, Hotch punched the button for the ground level, and then he turned to look at Emily.

She was biting her lip as she stared up at him with a sleepy smile.

The corner of his mouth quirked up in return . . . as long as they were alone . . . leaned down and kissed her . . . he might as well take advantage of the opportunity to try on that Chapstick again.

Because really . . . his tongue slid past her lips as he backed her against the wall . . . you could never get too many kisses from beautiful women that tasted like strawberries.

As Hotch's tongue started doing some wonderful things to her mouth, Emily hooked her leg around his as she began to moan . . . he was SOOO good at this!

But then suddenly she heard the door bounce back and her eyes popped open.

Somebody else had just joined them on the elevator.

She immediately yanked her head back and whispered urgently, "Hotch," before she jerked her chin to the side.

Disappointed at the sudden disappearance of her lips, Hotch shot a look over at the person he had just heard catch the elevator.

There was a man around their age smirking at them as he said jovially, "sorry to interrupt!"

Though he knew the guy hadn't actually done anything wrong, Hotch still scowled at him as he felt Emily duck her head against his chest.

Not only had this jackass screwed up the first few genuinely enjoyable minutes Hotch'd had since he'd gotten to do this with Emily three days earlier . . . but he'd also made his girl uncomfortable.

And that . . . he glowered until the other man dropped his eyes . . . was reason enough alone for Hotch to hate him.

Once the interloper was staring down at his shoes, Hotch sighed as he pulled Emily closer. He knew that she was embarrassed to be caught making out on an elevator and he was trying to put her at ease again.

Though he wasn't a fan of overt public displays of affection either, he certainly wasn't embarrassed about what had happened. He rested his chin on top of her head as he watched the red numbers count down . . . what straight man in his right mind would ever be embarrassed to be caught kissing Emily?

That would be nuts.

Besides that though . . . he ran his fingers soothingly down her back . . . the guy walked in on a private moment.

That wasn't the same thing as choosing to suck face in the middle of a room full of people.

Feeling the blush climb her cheeks, Emily buried her face in the fleece of Hotch's jacket.

GOD! She just got caught MOANING in front of a stranger!! That was SO embarrassing! Kissing in front of strangers was one thing, kissing was okay.

But moaning . . . she chewed lip in agitation . . . moaning was something else ENTIRELY!

And now she was STUCK on the frigging elevator with this guy!

Though she appreciated Hotch's efforts to shield her she really just wished to be elsewhere. And as she tried to disappear entirely into her new boyfriend, she sent up a little prayer.

'_Please God, just get this guy off the elevator.'_

But apparently God was busy with more important matters . . . understandable given their location . . . and the guy stayed with them all the way down to the ground level. Though fortunately, they did at least pick up a few more passengers along the way. So it wasn't just the three of them in an awkward silence.

The extra passengers helped a little.

And as the minutes ticked by she started to feel less unnerved about the whole thing. But still, as Hotch guided them off the car her hand fisted in his jacket as she whispered, "please let him go ahead."

She might have worked in a profession where she routinely had to ask people the most intimate, invasive details of their intimate relationships, but Emily still had been raised a good catholic girl. And lapsed or not, she still felt some things were private.

Moaning was most definitely private. And really, she just wanted the guy to go away.

At Emily's plea, Hotch stopped walking and looked down at her with a little smile, "Emily we're adults who were sharing a private moment," he ran his finger along her cheek, "there's nothing to be embarrassed about."

She pouted, "that's easy for you to say. You weren't the one who was moaning in a public place."

Hotch's mouth quivered for a moment. But then his amusement faded when he saw that she was still genuinely bothered about what had happened. It was true that for as outgoing as her personality was, Emily was pretty conservative in many other areas.

This was apparently one of them. And who was he to tell her that she was wrong to feel that way? He was a man, what the hell did he know about a woman's feelings on something like this?

Not a damn thing.

All he knew for sure was that she was bothered about something. And whether or not he entirely understood the reasons that she was so bothered didn't really matter, because he knew that it would take very little to make her happy again.

And her being happy was all that _did_ matter.

So he moved them over to the side of the corridor. And as he hugged her to his chest he whispered into her ear, "we'll let him get a little bit further ahead." And when she murmured back a relieved, "thank you," he kissed her temple.

She was happy again and he got full body contact out of it.

That was a win/win.

His eyes closed for a moment . . . on the upside, it was at least nice to have another moment alone.

Not that they were actually alone, alone, people were streaming past them. But they didn't know anyone here and nobody was paying them any attention.

And that's when he realized that they wouldn't have this when they went home.

DC was a small town and it would be nearly impossible to be out alone together. Certainly like this, like a regular couple expressing affection for one another.

The heaviness began to settle over his heart once more as he realized how hard this was going to be. Until they figured out what they were doing long term, it would be best if their relationship remained completely private. And that was probably going to cause a strain.

No woman likes to be treated like a dirty secret.

He tipped his head down to rest against hers before he whispered, "are you really sure about this relationship Emily? You know it's going to be hard," he was quiet for a moment before his voice came back slightly husky, "and I just don't want you to wake up six months from now regretting your choices."

If he tried to build something with her it would kill him if she grew to resent him for the life they were forced to live if they wanted to be together.

If that was a really possibility, as painful as it would be, he'd rather end this now before he fell even harder and became more attached.

For a moment Emily had a stab of fear that he was the one that was already regretting his choices. But then she took note of the sadness in his voice and she realized that he was afraid.

He was worried that once the two of them moved past the newness of their relationship, that she'd leave him just like Haley had.

Poor thing. His life really had sucked for a long time now.

She tipped her head back and leaned up on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips. And then she gave him a soft smile, "my only regret would be waking up six months from now and not having you next to me." As she saw his face brighten slightly she quirked up her lip, "besides, I've always wanted to be involved in a clandestine love affair. It's on the bucket list."

His expression softened . . . leave it to Emily to see the positive when he could only see the negative.

He saw keeping their relationship private as a dirty little secret . . . she saw it as a clandestine love affair.

Who had the better outlook on the world?

He sighed . . . and what kind of man did he want to be for her? The kind that only ever sees the negative? Or the kind that can take her positive spin and make it his own?

If he wanted to salvage any joy from his life, the choice to follow her lead seemed clear.

So a shadow of a smile crossed his lips as he looked down at her, "a clandestine love affair does sound pretty good," his eyebrow went up, "does that mean I'll get to see some manner of silk stockings and garter belts? Because that's usually what you get in the movies."

For her he would try.

After all . . . he tucked her hair back behind her ear . . . she might be his last chance.

She smiled, "I think that can be arranged. Though . . ." she intertwined their fingers at his side, "if you're getting stockings and garter belts then do you think that I could get some roses and the occasional trinket wrapped up in a little bow."

If they were going to have to hide this, it wasn't going to be something that they were ashamed of. They would make the best of it. They would make it romantic.

It would make some of the hard parts easier.

Feeling his depression begin to lift again, Hotch leaned down to kiss her before he murmured against her lips, "roses and trinkets I can do."

They stared at each other for a moment before he gave her a little smile, "so we're really going to try?

This was it. This was the conversation that they needed to have before he answered any questions for Sean.

She nodded, "yep, we're going to try."

And if she had anything to say about it they were going to succeed. She was already at a point where she couldn't imagine anyone else. If she'd already fallen that hard technically only twenty minutes into their relationship, how far gone would she be six months from now?

"Okay," he hugged her tightly as he breathed a little sigh of relief, "okay."

They were going to try. That's all he wanted, just the opportunity to be happy again. And he wouldn't make the same mistakes he did with Haley. If he just tried hard enough he was sure that he could get this one right.

Just then he looked up to see their elevator companion passing them with a cup of coffee. Of course when he saw Hotch looking at him, he immediately turned his head the other way.

Once the guy was out of earshot, Hotch's lip quirked up as he whispered in her ear, "the coast is clear."

She smiled against his chest, "good, then let's go get some coffee."

With Hotch's arm around her waist, they started walking again as he said firmly, "you need more than coffee Agent Prentiss."

She frowned at him, "you're going to make me eat hospital food?"

Though she'd decided upstairs not to fight him on this, she hadn't actually considered the quality of the meal he was going to force her to eat.

If she was sick to her stomach she wouldn't be much help to him either.

His eyes crinkled slightly, "it's actually not that bad. We've been eating here the past few days and everything's been quite edible," he squeezed her side, "I don't care what it is, but I want you to eat something substantive."

Her head rolled onto his chest as she sighed, "you're the boss."

"That I am," he kissed the top of her head, "and this is probably the last day that you'll acknowledge that fact off duty so I'm going to take advantage to get a hot meal into you."

She smiled as they entered the cafeteria.

'_Yeah, they were going to be just fine.'_

* * *

_A/N 2: This might go an extra chapter. Not because I added to the basic plot, but just that I'd planned on expanding this particular chapter out a bit more. But I've had all manner of technical issues the past 24 hrs. I got a blue screen of death! Fortunately that was the laptop and not the PC. But UNfortunately I'd been writing on the laptop at the time so I lost like a half a chapter of the new AU bonus story. Back to the plus column, I was working off the flash drive or else I would have lost like EVERYTHING I was working on this week. And then I would have cried. As it was I lost like a half a day trying to repair the other issues. And to tell you how well that's going, it's been like 9 hrs since the meltdown and it's still running a diagnostic! So basically, if I didn't just polish this up as it was, I wasn't getting anything up in this story for at least a few more days. I was also in the middle of a couple review responses but I remember who they were so, chiroho, abunnymom, and lovelylooney, I'll be getting back to you tomorrow : )_

_The last couple days (rather than trying to post) I spent some time typing up the three million things I've had scribbled in the notebook. It was getting to the point that I didn't even want to put anything else in there because I had more on paper than I did pending electronically. And I have a LOT of crap pending in e-version! I found a story I wrote two weeks ago that I had completely forgotten about! That's HOW much I had crammed in there. So even though I'm focusing mostly on Girl and Communication right now, I should still have a couple more updates on other things over the next week. Especially with the Thanksgiving break._

_I'm also very excited, I watched Minimal Loss again last night (I love that CM is now in syndication, it's all over the place) and I got an idea for a whole new post ep! Outside Girl'verse, straight canon. See, this is why it sucks that the show is messing with my head right now, I still get ideas just straight off episodes. _

_The next bit here will be a bit angstier. I figured I'd give them both a little break from their respective issues before I made them deal with reality again._


	7. The Family Dynamic

**Author's Note**: Yes, Communication Breakdown! I didn't forget it existed. They're all rolling around in my head, unfortunately I just don't have the time to write them all up simultaneously :)

This is amazingly the third posting I got up today. And you know this is a major anomaly so don't get used to it :)

The scene picks up twenty minutes after the last chapter.

* * *

**The Family Dynamic**

Emily tipped her head onto Hotch's shoulder as they walked out of the cafeteria.

Now that touching him was allowed she wanted to do it all the time. And as his arm slid around her shoulders and he kissed her forehead she realized that he probably felt the same way.

Not to mention that once they were on duty again they'd be stuck three feet apart at all times. So they really should stock up on the close contact now.

Just before they got to the elevators she suddenly stopped and looked up at him.

"Oh, I almost forgot. Where's the chapel? I wanted to light a candle. I mean," she shrugged her shoulder slightly, "if you don't mind."

She knew that Hotch wasn't a huge fan of organized religion but her grandmother . . . and even her mother to a slightly lesser extent . . . were big fans of candle lighting. Emily was never as devout as either of them but she'd always had faith in that particular ritual.

It was something tangible. A quid pro quo.

By her mindset . . . with a life built around the rule of law . . . it was a more logically sound approach to reaching out to God than simply by prayer alone.

Hotch's expression softened as he looked down at her, "of course I don't mind. And I think it's off the first floor by the lobby. Though," his brow wrinkled, "this is a Jewish affiliated hospital, so I'm not sure if they'd have candles."

_Wasn't that just a Catholic ritual?_

Her face started to fall . . . but she needed candles! Candles were what worked!

Then she realized that she was being silly thinking wax sticks had magical powers. That was just a connection she made in her mind because of her family.

So she shook her head as she gave him a little smile, "well, that's okay if they don't. I'd just like to say a prayer."

"Okay," he rubbed her shoulder as they started walking again, "well let's go see what they do have."

She really was a sweetheart wanting to do that for him. Though he had of course been sending up prayers of his own for his mother, he hadn't done it in the hospital chapel. To him prayer was a private thing, not something he wished to do in front of others.

As they started walking, Emily shook her head, "oh Hotch it's okay. I can find it. You should go back upstairs."

They'd already been gone twenty minutes and she didn't want to keep him from anywhere he needed to be.

"No, it's fine," he said softly as he brushed off her concern, "if there was any news then Sean would have come and found us or had me paged. And I had an update just before you came so I'm sure the nurse won't be out again for at least another half hour."

That was true. But also . . . they stepped onto the elevator . . . now that Emily had arrived he didn't want her out of his sight for even a minute. He didn't know how long it would be until this bubble burst. Right now things were kind of okay.

Not really of course, but there was an illusion that they were. But at any time something could happen with his mother, or Emily could get called away, and everything would go to shit again.

So if he could help it . . . they stepped into the corner of the elevator and he tucked her against his side . . . he didn't want to waste any of this time they had by being apart.

////////

They stepped off the elevator onto the main level and walked down to the small plain room which functioned as the non-denominational chapel. To Emily's delight they did have candles and Hotch stood back by the door watching as she made an offering, lit the flame and said a prayer.

These were not rituals that he truly understood . . . his family wasn't religious . . . but still, watching Emily perform them suddenly brought tears to his eyes.

These things were being done for him. For his family.

His mother.

The tears began to pool . . . his mother. His mother would adore Emily.

Now . . . he wiped the corner of his eye . . . he just hoped that they would have a chance to meet.

When Emily was done and came over to meet him by the door, he pulled her into a hug. "Thank you," he whispered before placing a small kiss on the corner of her mouth.

He made sure it was a chaste kiss. If she got embarrassed after what happened in the elevator he was quite sure that she'd have convictions of some kind about appropriate displays of affection in a chapel.

Of course he also had convictions about appropriate displays of affection in a chapel. But as had been demonstrated to him already today, male, female brains don't process these things the same way. So he made sure not to do anything to embarrass Emily before he tugged her gently into the hall.

When Hotch tangled their fingers together Emily's eyes crinkled slightly as she leaned against his side. They had candles in a Jewish hospital . . . she didn't know if that was a miracle or par for the course.

But to her . . . Hotch hit the elevator button . . . that seemed like a good sign.

Emily made a mental note to stop and light another one before they left for the night.

////////

As they started up on the elevator again, Emily started to yawn . . . repeatedly. The adrenaline of her trip was wearing off and the simple fact that she'd now been awake for thirty plus hours was starting to catch up with her.

With a vengeance.

After her seventh yawn, slightly embarrassed, she looked up at Hotch, "I'm sorry. I didn't actually get any sleep at all last night."

This was great, she comes all this way to be with him and she can barely keep her eyes open.

Hotch squeezed her fingers as he gave her a little smile, "there's a bunk area down the hall. It's supposed to just be for staff but the nurses have been nice about letting Ileana go in there with Gabby. I'm sure we can get a little professional courtesy extended for you."

Given how much overlap law enforcement and medical professionals had in their jobs they were often inclined to extend favors that might not be available to the general public. So most likely the nurses would let Emily take a nap in their crash room.

And if they didn't, well, he'd just steal a pillow from the supply room and stake out a quiet corner of the waiting room.

He put his arm back around Emily's shoulder as he pulled her back against his side . . . but most likely they'd let her lay down. And that would actually work out really well. Because God knows he didn't want to have Ileana and Emily sitting around together all day. Ileana would have a million questions. And he wasn't going to have Emily put through the third degree by his family on the first day of their . . . well, their relationship.

Relationship . . . his eyes shifted down to the woman leaning against his side . . . a term he was adjusting to applying to his situation with Emily.

For so long she'd been Prentiss, and then Emily, and now, well, now she was something more.

He kissed her temple . . . and he was very happy about the something more. Even if it was going to take him a little while to settle into their new roles. And though it would be appealing to just go straight down to let Emily take a nap, he knew that he had to go back to the waiting room first and tell Sean where they'd be.

And Ileana had definitely returned by now so there was no way to push off the two women meeting until later . . . they stepped off the elevator . . . so it was lucky that they'd have a good reason to step out again right away.

As they walked into the waiting room Hotch's eyes sought out the corner where he'd left his brother . . . still there but now with his whole family.

Hotch smiled as he saw Gabby sitting on the couch with a small stack of what looked like coloring books.

He could see that she had on her fairy princess dress over her thermal shirt and wool tights . . . she looked adorable.

Just then Sean looked up and waved at him. Then he whispered in his daughter's ear and her head snapped up as a grin spread across her little face. She dropped her crayons as she bolted off the couch, and with her parents laughing she yelled, "UNCLE!" and bee lined across the room.

Emily chuckled as she saw the little fair haired bullet flying at them . . . apparently this little cutie was Hotch's niece. Hotch let go of her waist to catch the little girl as she raced up to him.

"Hi sweetheart," he swung her up, kissing her cheek before he put her on his hip, "were you a good girl at your class?"

Gabby might have occasionally been a painful reminder of his son's absence, but . . . his eyes crinkled as she started chattering away about her finger painting project . . . he couldn't deny the spark of happiness that could only come with a small child.

They brought a simple joy to your day.

His eyes shifted over to Emily smiling at them . . . but of course he had two sparks today. And when Gabby paused he used the opportunity to make a quick introduction, "Gabby this is my friend Emily, can you say hi?"

For a moment Gabby stared at the woman next to them . . . Hotch could see her sizing her up . . . then her face lit up.

"Mommy boughted me a color book!"

Hotch's lip quirked up . . . and Emily had passed muster.

Emily grinned at Hotch's niece as she reached over to loop her arm through his . . . clearly 'color book' was "coloring book."

"Well," her eyes flickered across the room for a moment to seek out the mommy in question before her attention snapped back to the little girl, "it sounds like you have a very nice mommy."

Also a very attractive mommy. Hotch's sister-in-law was beautiful. It really was fortunate she'd learned the family dynamic before she'd just shown up here today and the little voices in her head had given her a complete complex again.

Seeing Aaron's girlfriend look over, Ileana saw that as her opportunity. Sean hadn't been able to tell her much of anything. Though he had said she was pretty and he certainly hadn't been wrong there.

Hotch saw Ileana start over and figured he'd head her off at the pass.

Again . . . still carrying Gabby he closed the distance between them . . . this was going to be a quick in and out like he'd done with Sean.

Emily wasn't playing twenty questions today. Not until she slept at least.

"Aaron," Ileana greeted her brother-in-law with a kiss on the cheek as she took her daughter from his arms, "I did not know you were expecting a friend today." She turned to Emily with a smile, "hello, I am Sean's wife Ileana. And you are Aaron's girlfriend, yes?"

Emily's mouth quivered . . . no beating around the bush with this one. But fortunately she and Hotch had 'the talk' and her status as girlfriend had been clarified and officially confirmed.

And as she felt Hotch's arm slip around her waist again she nodded firmly, "I am," she put her hand out, "Emily Prentiss, it's very nice to meet you," she tipped her head as her tone softened, "though of course I wish it was under better circumstances."

Next to a funeral, this definitely ranked as the worst possible circumstances to play 'meet the family.'

Ileana immediately sobered as she nodded and squeezed Emily's hand, "yes, yes of course, these are terrible days."

She liked this woman . . . she had kind eyes. And as Ileana's own eyes dropped down to see Aaron clutching his friend to his side, Ileana knew that he liked this woman very much too.

Good . . . she let go of the other woman's hand . . . this was very good. He needed somebody to look after him. Somebody to love him. Ileana hadn't been able to believe that Haley had left him and taken Jack.

Jack.

Her head quirked to the side . . . had Emily met Jack yet? Actually . . . Ileana's brain started whirring . . . did she have any children of her own? Maybe they were blending families. Did they live together?

Hotch saw Ileana was about to open her mouth again . . . he could imagine the twenty questions about to be shot at Emily on rapid fire . . . so he cut off the inquisition before it could begin.

"Emily needs to lie down so I'm going to take her to the bunk room," he projected his voice over to his brother, "come find me if the doctor comes out before I get back."

Sean nodded, "of course."

Well . . . his eyes crinkled slightly . . . of course Aaron had wiggled his way out of that one. His brother had never done anything in his life that he didn't choose to do of his own free will. And he clearly didn't want Ileana talking to the new girlfriend yet. Which was probably just as well. Because as soon as Sean had told his wife about Aaron's mysterious friend, she'd been preparing a laundry list of questions to ask.

Clearly . . . he waved as Aaron and Emily turned and started out of the room . . . his brother had found a way to get that postponed.

Ileana and Gabby came back over and sat down next to him again. His brow quirked up in curiosity as he looked at his wife, "so what do you think?"

"I think," her eyes tracked the couple leaving the room hand in hand, "that he is in love."

////////

After he got permission from the charge nurse to let Emily take a nap, Hotch guided his girlfriend (another term he was getting used to) down the corridor, knocking once on the break room door before he turned the knob.

The lights were off, and as Hotch flicked the switch on Emily saw two sets of bunks freshly made up with sheets that looked like they were made out of the same material as the nurses' scrubs.

At least they looked clean.

And fortunately there was nobody in there sleeping because as soon as Emily saw the pillows her eyes started to get heavy.

Those looked nice.

Before she'd taken more than a step into the room, Hotch started unzipping her jacket and taking off her scarf. And as he took over, her exhaustion began to set in. And then he sat her down and untied her boots, slipping them off and placing them by the end of the bunk.

He was being gentle and taking care, and her heart began to fill with something that felt suspiciously like love.

His hands slowly worked their way back up her calves, stopping when they reached her thighs. He slowly brought his eyes up, and when his gaze caught with hers she leaned down to kiss him.

This kiss was not as chaste as their kiss hello . . . but . . . she opened her mouth . . . it was definitely not on par with approaching the wantonness of the other night.

It was something in between.

And as she ran her fingers through his hair, pulling him closer, all she could think was how much she was looking forward to spending the next few decades categorizing all of his kisses.

As soon as Hotch realized he was starting to get a little too warm under the collar . . . this was definitely the wrong place for things to get out of hand . . . he reluctantly pulled away.

When he looked back at Emily he saw that her face was flush and her lips were swollen . . . she looked absolutely beautiful.

Even under the circumstances, he felt a small wave of joy rise up.

He was allowed to touch her and kiss her . . . the back of his fingers brushed down her cheek . . . and soon make love to her.

These were gifts that he wouldn't take for granted.

Feeling the little smile cross his lips, he kissed her once more quickly before he gently guided her back on the bed and pulled the folded hospital blanket up from the bottom of the mattress.

As she shifted back, Hotch looked down at her for a moment before he asked hesitantly, "would you mind if I lay down with you?"

Even with the developments today he wasn't sure if he was being too forward asking to crawl into bed with her.

But he really wanted to stay.

Her brow wrinkled slightly in confusion, "I had assumed that you were staying," she squeezed his hand, "I came to see _you._ I wouldn't stay down here without you."

Like she would have agreed to lie down if he wasn't staying!

His expression softened, "okay then, thanks," he began to untie his own boots, "I didn't really sleep last night either. I was worried about my mom, and I was worried about whether you'd received my message."

God was he worried about that message. If another day had passed without them speaking this moment might have been lost to him.

Feeling a sting at his . . . she knew full well . . . _unintended_, rebuke, Emily's eyes stung as she rubbed her hand down his back, feeling the softness of his fleece jacket under her fingers.

How very stupid she had been.

A second later he dropped his boots down next to hers and she slid over on the mattress, holding the blanket up for him.

This was definitely not a bed made for two people but . . . Hotch lay down and she wrapped her body around his side . . . it was big enough. And as then she felt his arm come around her shoulders, pulling her in closer, she turned her face into the curve of his neck and inhaled deeply.

This was really nice.

But then a second later she felt guilty for her happiness. She was only here with him now because of his mother's accident. It didn't feel right to be happy.

It was . . . their fingers laced together on his stomach . . . an emotionally confusing situation.

For a moment they were quiet and then Hotch kissed her temple before whispering softly, "I missed you so much," his voice faded, "so very much."

Funny how something like that sneaks up on you. They'd known each other for years, first wary colleagues, then warm ones, finally friends, and now suddenly . . . or at least it seemed sudden . . . she was all that he wanted.

And he wanted her with him all the time.

Emily's eyes stung as she pressed her lips to his ear, "I missed you too. And I know I said it before, but I'm just sorry I wasn't here earlier," her voice cracked, "I'm sorry you were here by yourself."

Damn Catholic guilt! She was THIS close to spilling her guts about all of the awful things she'd been thinking the last forty eight hours.

But no . . . she took a quick heaving breath as she tried to get her emotions back under control . . . that would just make her feel better for a millisecond. And then the relief would be gone and she'd feel ten times worse. He'd be hurt that she'd avoided his calls and that she'd thought such terrible things about him. As though he'd ever lead her on and then go off with some other woman.

Even thinking about it now she couldn't believe that she'd let her brain run crazy like that. That was just so . . . so . . . a tear ran down her face . . . stupid.

Feeling the moisture on his throat . . . and assuming that Emily was getting emotional because she was overtired . . . Hotch rubbed his hand down her back murmuring, "shhh, it's okay. You didn't even know what was going on until last night," he tipped his head down to kiss her forehead, "and then you jumped right on a plane to come see me," he paused, "I can't even tell you how much that means."

When Haley left he had thought that was it for him for love, companionship . . . support. But with that single act from Emily his faith in so many things had been restored.

And there were was so much that he wanted to say to her. But this wasn't the place or the time to get in touch with their feelings. Perhaps back at his brother's they could talk more, but for now he quickly got back on point as he finished softly, "you have nothing at all to apologize for Emily."

Again feeling the sting of regret at his words . . . and knowing that the apologies on her tongue would cause nothing but pain . . . Emily knew that actions were all she had at her disposal. So she hooked her leg over his thigh so she could move closer.

Then she kissed his throat and whispered, "I'm still sorry you were alone, but I promise you won't be anymore," she slowly exhaled as she wiped the tears off her face, "so let's get some sleep and then when we wake up we should have good news on your mom."

Helping Hotch keep a positive thought was still the most important thing she could do here. The rest of it . . . she swallowed . . . well, the rest of it she needed to put behind her.

"Right," his eyes crinkled slightly, "good news."

The Emily Prentiss approach to life . . . positivity. Another new word in his vocabulary.

He closed his eyes feeling her warm breath on his throat, and her soft body lying on top of him.

And for just a moment . . . life was good.

* * *

_A/N 2: There are (I think) three more chapters here. The next one is half written in my notebook. The one after that has already been typed up, and I've started the epilogue. This was all back when I was totally fixated on this story in November. Then something happened and it fell by the wayside. But it's so close to done that I am hoping to maybe get it finished up over the next couple weeks. The next one will focus back in on Hotch's mom specifically. It just seemed like they should get a little more time together. And really, like only an hour has passed since Emily arrived so it's not like so much would be crammed into that small window. It was enough for them to connect, have a bite to eat and meet his family._

_The candle thing, yeah I have no idea if you can find candles anywhere but in Catholic churches/chapels. I think the only chapels I've been in have been in Catholic hospitals so I have no context for ones run by other denominations. But, chapels in general are SUPPOSEDLY non-denominational and lighting a prayer candle didn't seem (to me, lapsed Catholic girl) to be anything contrary or offensive to another faith, so I thought they might have them. If anyone knows feel free to pass it along. It wasn't really something I could think of a way to google._

_Okay, off to bed. I just remembered that I told the new girl that she could meet me at 8 am for training. What the hell was I thinking?! Idiot._


	8. The Remains of the Day

**Author's Note**: This was the damn chapter that I've been trying to get wrapped up forever. I've actually had the one AFTER this completed since November. It was this transitional one that was holding everything up. So after this one, it's a downhill slide because basically the next one is the end :)

_Prompt Announcement_: Kavi and I put up new Regular and Bonus prompts. And this is also the one year anniversary of our beginning the Challenge Forum. In honor of such a monumentous occasion I dug into my Fic correspondence folder and found the PM origins of our little project:

Me: _ I think episode titles from other shows would be a really fun challenge! _

Kavi: _We could start a forum about it and see where it goes?_

There you go, from a tiny acorn to the mighty oak! We now have almost 30 challenges up and well over 200 stories in 2 communities to go with them. So long live the challenge! :)

* * *

**Prompt Set #17**

Show: The Jeffersons

Title Challenge: Silver Lining

* * *

**The Remains of the Day**

Hotch fidgeted uncomfortably in the waiting room chair. He was staring up at the clock on the far wall getting more and more agitated as he watched late afternoon tick slowly into early evening.

It had been six hours and forty-three minutes since they began his mother's surgery.

The surgery was only supposed to take six hours. That was six hours if everything went "according to plan."

But of course . . . he felt his carefully held control begin to slip . . . everything was NOT going according to plan! And he knew that because they were forty-three minutes PASSED the point where everything was going according to the FUCKING PLAN!

_All right Aaron _. . . he took a breath . . ._ calm down. Getting yourself worked up isn't going to make them finish any faster._

He leaned forward and scrubbed his hands down his face . . . shit.

A second later he felt Emily's fingers running through his hair. He knew it was Emily because he'd smelled her perfume as she walked up.

Emily stooped down to whisper in Hotch's ear, "I only left you alone for four minutes. You weren't supposed to freak out in four minutes."

But of course she should have known that he would. Biological imperatives were biological imperatives though and she'd waited as long as she could before she ran to the bathroom.

It was the first time they'd been apart for even a minute since they'd met by the elevator that morning.

They'd slept for almost two hours in the on-call room and then they'd pulled on their boots and checked in with Sean again. The news was that there was no news, so they went down to grab fresh coffee from the cafeteria before they settled into the waiting room for the rest of the afternoon.

That was almost three hours ago and Hotch had been getting more and more anxious as the hands on the clock spun around and around. Emily knew that in his mind a six hour surgery should wrap up in exactly six hours, and if it went over six hours that meant that something horrible had happened.

Yes . . . her expression softened as Hotch lifted his head to look at her . . . granted, the nurse had come out forty-five minutes ago to say that there had been a 'slight' complication. But to Emily's mind slight meant small. And though there was no such thing as a 'good complication,' not all complications had horrific consequences either.

Some were just minor setbacks.

But trying to convince Hotch of that was an uphill battle.

Though of course he wouldn't flat out tell her that he was terrified, the waves of tension pouring off him were palpable. And God what she wouldn't do to take him for a walk somewhere if only to burn off some of that nervous energy. But they absolutely could not leave the floor right now.

She pressed a quick kiss to his lips before she sat down next to him . . . they couldn't even leave the _room _right now. Provided slight complications didn't turn into major ones, the surgeon should hopefully be out at any time to give them an update.

And God help them all if Hotch wasn't right here when that happened.

But . . . she slipped her arm through his before leaning over to place her head on his shoulder . . . otherwise, if not for their 'travel' restrictions at the moment, she would have definitely taken him somewhere more private and found some way to distract him from his worries. She didn't want their first time to be an awkward fumbling in a hospital room supply closet, but she was sure that she could have found something else for them to do.

Kissing would have worked . . . she thought back to their impromptu make-out on the elevator . . . yes, kissing would have worked just fine.

In here though . . . he turned to press his lips to her temple . . . their personal affection was limited by the crowd around them.

A crowd which included Sean and his family sitting a few seats away from them.

They'd moved down to the corner so Gabby could take a nap on the couch. She was still sleeping but Emily could see Ileana was looking over worriedly at Hotch so Emily gave her a little smile as she patted his chest.

Emily was trying to tell the other woman that he was fine, that she had it under control.

And given the relieved smile Ileana gave her in return, Emily was pretty sure . . . though it was complete bullshit, Hotch was FAR from fine . . . she fell for it.

Good . . . her eyes shifted elsewhere in the room . . . Hotch's sister-in-law was sweet and she obviously meant well, but Emily knew that Hotch would not appreciate being hovered over. So she needed to keep Ileana away from him.

That was also why Emily . . . though worried sick about him . . . was going out of her way to not to ask him every five minutes if he needed anything, how he was feeling or if he wanted to talk.

He'd HATE that.

So she was just . . . there. Just sitting with him, holding his hand and making sure that he knew that he wasn't alone. That was all he really needed right now.

Not that she hadn't asked him if he wanted some tea . . . he'd had enough caffeine for the day . . . or a cold drink. Of course she had done those things too. But she'd restricted those inquiries to no less than sixty minute intervals.

All in all . . . and all horribly crappy circumstances considered . . . Emily was pretty sure she was doing okay on her first day in this new role in Hotch's life.

And then Hotch leaned over and Emily felt his warm breath tickling her ear.

"I missed you," he whispered right before he pressed a kiss to her skin. Her eyes started to burn.

_She was gone for five minutes and he missed her. Okay, yeah, she definitely seemed to be doing all right today._

Hotch pulled back slightly and leaned his head down to rest against Emily's.

Honest to God he wasn't sure what he would be doing without her right now. Quite possibly out on a ledge somewhere. Or at the very least in need of some sort of cardiac treatment.

Yes, cardiac treatment was likely.

Because Emily's presence was the only thing keeping his blood pressure from tipping the charts. When she'd left him alone he was once again free to go absolutely nuts with all of his horrible worst case scenario panicking. But then she came back into the room and he actually felt his body physiologically respond to her presence.

Like a drug. Valium but in a much prettier package.

So he tried to close out the rest of the world and just focus in on her presence at his side. She was rubbing circles on his chest . . . over his heart . . . and they were actually quite soothing. So he concentrated on that rather than all of his fears and worries about his mother and the decisions he was going to have to make if this surgery wasn't successful.

And for a little while it worked. Another thirteen minutes to be precise.

But then they moved into the seventh hour and that's when he saw his mother's surgeon walk into the room.

He looked grim.

Though Emily didn't recognize the doctor that had entered the waiting room . . . nurses had been giving the updates since she'd been there . . . she did of course recognize the sudden tension in Hotch's body to mean that this was his mom's surgeon. So she lifted her head from his shoulder, sliding her hand down to grab his fingers as they stood up.

And as Ileana and Sean walked over to join them, Emily sent up another little prayer . . . she'd done as much praying this afternoon as she'd done in the last five years . . . that this would be good news.

//////////

Sean pulled into the driveway just after eight thirty and Ileana finally let out the breath she'd been holding for the past thirty miles.

Thank God they had arrived home without an accident.

The storm had raged throughout the day, leaving another eight inches of snow on top of the ten that were already on the ground. Now the white powder was dwindling down just to flurries, but the roads . . . though plowed repeatedly . . . were quite treacherous.

But of course that was mostly because the wind was picking up and everything was freezing over.

The drive had taken more than double the normal time but Ileana still thought it was worth it to get out of the city.

After they got the news on Mother Hotchner . . . the surgery had not gone as well as they'd hoped it would . . . Aaron had been adamant about staying overnight at the hospital. But fortunately Emily had taken him aside and somehow persuaded him that there was nothing more he could do here and that it would be best to get some rest at home and then go in early the next day.

Ileana had been incredibly grateful for her interceding with him. Because she knew that if Aaron had stayed then Sean would have stayed too. And she was sure that they needed proper sleep in real beds.

That hospital was a terribly depressing place. It would do neither of them any good . . . mentally or physically . . . to sleep there overnight.

Mother Hotchner was still in the recovery unit anyway. The boys . . . Ileana unlocked the back door . . . had only been given two minutes to see her before they left.

And they wouldn't be allowed in to see her again until morning regardless of where they slept, so it really was best that they all came home.

As the group of five . . . Gabby was sleeping in her father's arms . . . stepped into the mudroom, jackets were immediately unzipped and hung with their matching scarves on the hooks by the back door.

Hats, gloves and mittens were placed on the radiator.

After their clothes were hung to dry, snow was stomped on the thick brown rug leading up to the kitchen. Though stomping removed the worst of the mess, before anyone went into the house proper, everyone stopped to remove their still wet boots.

They had had much snow that winter and these steps had been nearly a daily ritual since the first big storm after Thanksgiving. The constant snow reminded Ileana of living back in her parents' house in the Alps.

It had made her homesick.

Ileana paused as she pulled off her daughter's small pink boot, her expression softening as she saw Aaron helping his Emily with a knot in her laces.

He was most definitely in love.

After everyone had removed their winter wear, Ileana led them into the kitchen. For a moment there was silence and then she rubbed her hands together as she asked softly, "is anyone hungry?"

Even if they weren't they should eat regardless. It wouldn't do for anyone to get sick.

In response to Ileana's question, the men both remained silent . . . they were clearly distracted. So after a quick glance over to see Hotch staring at the marble countertop, Emily gave his sister-in-law a little smile, "do you have any soup?"

It was light and quick and Hotch definitely needed to eat something.

At Ileana's nod, and enthusiastic, "yes of course," Hotch lifted his head and started to protest, "I'm not . . ."

But Emily cut him off with just a touch. As her hand rubbed his back, his voice faltered and she finished her thought softly, "soup would be good."

She knew how he was, and she knew that he wasn't going to take care of himself. And if he wasn't going to take care of himself then she'd do it for him. After all, that's why she'd flown up in a snowstorm.

To look after him.

Ileana's eyes flickered nervously back and forth between the other couple and then over to her husband holding their sleeping daughter. He was staring down at the floor.

The women were now in charge.

So she looked back and nodded firmly at Aaron's girlfriend.

"There is soup in the freezer. I will heat it up."

It was nice to have someone here to help her with them. For days she'd been struggling to look after both of them when they were both so closed off from their feelings. With Sean at least she had ways of reaching him.

But poor Aaron, always so serious and . . . with the exception of his obvious affection for the woman at his side . . . it was usually nearly impossible to figure out what was going on in his brain. But this woman clearly understood him, and she clearly knew how to handle him.

Really . . . she watched as Emily slipped her arm around his waist . . . it was probably more that he allowed this woman to handle him.

Emily nodded as she leaned into Hotch's side, "great, thanks. I'll come back to help you in a minute. I just want to change out of these clothes, I've been wearing them since four am."

At that pronouncement Hotch looked down at her, "you can change in my room."

Or perhaps it was their room. There had been no discussion of sleeping arrangements, but after what had happened at the hospital most likely it was their room.

His heart started to ache as he thought about having to sleep alone that night . . . God he hoped it was their room.

Emily's eyes crinkled slightly as she looked up at Hotch, "okay, thanks."

Though getting out of her traveling clothes . . . which now smelled like hospital disinfectant . . . was her primary goal, Emily was also relieved to get some guidance on the sleeping arrangements.

It seemed unlikely that Sean and Ileana would prefer her to sleep in a different room than Hotch, but she didn't really know their feelings on such things. And it was their house, she'd have to abide by their wishes.

But Ileana hadn't countered Hotch's offer with suggesting he show her to another spare room, so it seemed like they were good to go on the space sharing front.

Provided he wanted her of course, but she wasn't too worried about that.

Hotch shifted Emily's bag back on his shoulder. Now that they were home, exhaustion was settling over him. Of course he knew a large part of that was stress, but regardless, all he wanted to do was go lie down.

Preferably with Emily.

Emily glanced over to Hotch . . . saw the expression on his face . . . and quickly looked back to Ileana.

"You're all set here, right? Did you need my help with anything before I go?"

'Please say no,' Emily she added in her head as she ran her thumb along Hotch's belt buckle. She knew his stress levels were nearing saturation point and she just wanted some time alone with him to help him relax.

All of those activities that were off limits in the waiting room were now on the agenda again.

Ileana quickly shook her head as she shooed them towards the door, "oh no, I am fine. You go rest. Dinner will be in three quarters of an hour."

Aaron's friend looked exhausted, and it would also be good for his soul to have a few minutes alone with her. Actually . . . she eyed the way the other woman was touching him . . . maybe it would be better if they pushed dinner off for a full hour.

After Emily pushed Aaron out the door with a grateful smile to Ileana, Ileana turned her attention to her husband and child.

"Liebchen," she said softly as she went over to kiss Sean's cheek, "why don't you put the baby down to sleep. I just want to get the soup out the freezer but I'll come find you in a minute."

Sean looked at his wife and then down to his daughter before he nodded slowly, "right, okay." Ileana stooped down to kiss Gabby's forehead and then patted his arm, "I will be along in a minute."

Ileana watched as her husband gave her a pained smile before he turned and left the room.

For a moment Ileana stared through the empty doorway. Then she shook her head as she turned to the freezer to pull out the container of tomato and gorgonzola soup she had made the week before.

The sooner she started defrosting the soup, the sooner she could go check on her husband.

//////////

Hotch tucked Emily tightly against his side as he led her through the living room, down the back hallway, passed the downstairs bathroom and into the guest room at the back of the house.

It was a two story colonial but rather than putting the home office on the first floor. . . the more common layout . . . Sean and Ileana had put it on the second floor and made the extra room downstairs into a spare bedroom.

Hotch had no idea what the official reasoning was behind this choice, but if he had to guess he'd say it was because his brother not so secretly hated his mother-in-law and wanted her as far away as possible when she came over for one of her twice annual month long visits.

Whatever it was, Hotch was just grateful for the little bit of extra privacy it had afforded him. It was an adjustment living with other people again.

Just as they stepped over the threshold, Hotch paused as he slipped Emily's bag off his shoulder.

"Uh, I'll just let you change," and he started to step back out.

He was unsure of how far Emily wanted to go tonight so he was trying to let her set the tone for their level of intimacy.

But to his relief Emily caught his hand as she gave him a soft smile, "you don't have to leave Aaron."

Silly man. Didn't he know that she was planning on having sex with him within the next two to three hours? So he most definitely could stay while she changed her clothes!

At her response, one corner of Hotch's mouth turned up, "okay."

Well . . . he carried her bag over to the dresser . . . that answered one question.

Seeing Emily begin to dig into her duffel, Hotch went over to lock the door . . . though his niece should sleep through the night, he knew that if Gabby awoke she would come running into his room unannounced . . . before he flopped down onto the patchwork quilt covering the bed.

Then he looked on unabashedly as Emily wriggled out of her jeans and pulled off her turtleneck sweater.

As he'd always suspected, Emily had been hiding a fabulous body under those conservative dark suits. And he was more than a little disappointed when she covered it up again by yanking on a plain t-shirt and a pair of black and white striped pajama pants.

It was a nice view while it lasted. Really . . . he thought sadly . . . it was a nice distraction from his life.

Emily turned around to Hotch openly gazing at her and her eyes crinkled slightly as she felt a spot of warmth on her cheeks.

Though it had been her idea for him to stay, she couldn't recall the last time a man looked at her that way.

Like she was the only woman in the world.

"Hey," she said shyly.

Seeing the touch of pink on Emily's cheeks, Hotch's expression softened as he responded quietly, "hey yourself." Then he put his hand out and she walked over to climb up on the bed with him.

After Emily curled up at his side, Hotch rubbed his hand down her arm.

"How long can you stay?" He whispered.

It might seem an odd question given that he was her boss, but he didn't want to be presumptuous about her time.

Emily sighed against his chest, "well, I have six weeks of annual leave saved up so basically I can stay as long as you need me," She tipped her head slightly, "well, provided Dave doesn't call with a case of course."

And she was really praying that things would stay quiet for at least another week. Clearly even if this last surgery ended up . . . against the odds . . . being successful, Hotch wouldn't be able to leave his mother until she was well enough to be transferred to a regular room. So best case, that would definitely take _his_ visit here well into next week. And now that Emily had seen what he was going through by himself, ideally she'd like to stay with him for the duration of his time here.

Though she honestly wasn't sure if he could stand to be away longer than another week anyway. How long could he could go without seeing his son? That had to be killing him.

Speaking of . . . her eyes shifted over to the alarm clock.

"Hotch, it's almost 9:00, do you want to try calling Jack?"

Hotch's eyes popped open, "oh shit," he started fumbling in his pocket for his phone, "thank you for reminding me."

Not that he would have forgotten completely . . . he hit Haley's number . . . but for just a moment he had drifted off to a world where Emily could be with him twenty-four hours a day for six weeks.

It was a nice world.

Emily closed her eyes and listened to Hotch talking to his little boy. He was so sweet, and soft, so different from work Hotch.

Actually she couldn't imagine the Hotch discussing new rubber duckies with the one that discussed wound patterns and blood splatter.

The dichotomy between the two was enough to bring tears to her eyes. Though she knew him probably better than anyone, she had no idea how much of his true self he had closed off to be able to do their work.

And when he hung up his call . . . eight minutes after it began . . . Emily pushed herself up to give him a kiss.

When she pulled away Hotch brushed his fingers through her hair as he whispered, "what was that for?"

Her eyes crinkled as she gave him a slightly watery smile, "just for being you. And you _sir_," she shook off her melancholy as she climbed onto his stomach, "are my favorite person in the whole wide world."

Then she leaned down to kiss him again, and as his hands encircled her waist, she slipped her tongue into his mouth and began fumbling with the zipper on his fleece.

After everything that had happened that week, all of her stupid insecurities tossing her on an emotional rollercoaster . . . she started pushing his jacket off his shoulders . . . Emily really didn't want to wait any longer.

As Emily started undressing him Hotch pulled back to get a breath of air, "you know," he sucked in a breath, "we don't have very much time before dinner."

Though he had hoped that this would happen tonight, a quickie with his brother and sister-in-law down the hall wasn't a very romantic first time.

Emily yanked her t-shirt over her head before she gave him a soft smile, "time enough."

She'd missed him and she loved him. Whether or not his feelings had reached the same depth that hers had, she didn't know. She thought maybe they had. But regardless, it was obvious from the things that he'd said since she arrived, and how affectionate he'd been today, that he wanted to try to build something long term.

For her those were reasons enough to make love tonight.

But beyond that . . . his thumb began to rub a gentle circle on her stomach . . . he'd had a horribly, stressful week and this would make him feel better.

The timing was win/win.

Hotch's lips twitched slightly as his gaze traveled along the expanse of creamy skin, with the small covering of white lace. Then he looked up at Emily with a little smile, "well, you've certainly made a solid argument for your position."

For just a little while he could put all of his fears and worries out of his head . . . it wasn't six weeks . . . but it would still be a wonderful break from reality.

As Emily's eyebrow rose in amusement, Hotch rolled her beneath him. And as he slid the white strap from her shoulder and began kissing his way down to her perfect breasts he murmured against her skin.

"Do you have any more of that Strawberry Chapstick?"

//////////

They were a little late for dinner . . . a little late for VERY good reason as far as Emily was concerned . . . but neither Sean nor Ileana commented. They just suddenly appeared in the kitchen doorway thirty seconds after Hotch had handed her a glass of water.

And as Ileana directed them into the breakfast nook off the kitchen, Emily was slightly dismayed to see that not only had the other woman heated up what appeared to be homemade tomato soup, but she'd also made grilled cheese sandwiches.

Not that Emily didn't think that the men especially should be eating something more substantive than a bowl of . . . admittedly delicious smelling . . . bisque, but she just felt guilty that there had been actual meal preparation and she hadn't helped.

But as she opened her mouth to apologize she realized that if she brought attention to her absence that would lead to an awkward pause as to WHY she hadn't come straight back down from Hotch's room after she'd changed. And though she was pretty sure that it was quite apparent what they'd been doing for the last forty-five minutes . . . there was no time for a shower so her hair was a bit of a mess . . . Emily REALLY didn't wish to flat out have the discussion at the dinner table with Hotch's extended family.

So instead she just smiled at Ileana as she complimented the food.

"Oh this looks great Ileana, thank you for pulling it together."

To which Hotch immediately added as he pulled out Emily's chair. "It smells delicious."

Hotch had discovered these past few nights when she force fed him a proper evening meal, that his sister-in-law was a very good cook. And after recent activities he was quite famished.

Famished, exhausted, but also . . . his hand ghosted over Emily's back as she sat down . . . happy.

Well . . . he pulled out his own chair . . . as happy as he could be with everything that was still hanging over him. But thanks to Emily's excellent choice of pre-dinner activities, he was at least feeling much less stressed than he had been when they first got home.

Though his own stomach was rumbling, Hotch did remember his manners and made sure to serve Emily one wedge off the pile of cheese sandwiches before he grabbed two for himself.

Ladies first . . . a faint smile touched his lips as he thought back to their time in the bedroom . . . always.

Out of the corner of his eye, Sean watched his brother across the table. Ten minutes ago he had gone down to collect the two of them for dinner, put his ear to the door for three seconds, turned around and walked away.

There was no way in hell he was about to interrupt them having sex. The last time he'd done that was when he was thirteen and Aaron had almost thrown him out the window.

But he had to admit . . . even with the news they got tonight . . . his brother looked better than he had all week. Not good, but certainly better than he had the last few days.

Apparently getting laid was exactly what he needed.

Sean's gaze shifted over to Emily picking up a napkin to wipe off Aaron's polo shirt where he'd just sprinkled a few crumbs from his sandwich.

Or perhaps . . . he watched as Aaron gave her an indulgent smile as she brushed away the non-existent mess . . . it was just this woman that he needed.

Either way . . . Sean took a bite of his sandwich . . . Emily was definitely poised to become a permanent fixture in the family.

//////////

Dinner overall was a subdued affair. Though Emily thought Hotch seemed a little less grim since the 'relationship christening,' she knew that he was still carrying a heavy heart tonight.

There were decisions to be made.

So the men were quiet and the women filled the silence with discussions about the weather forecast . . . more bitterly cold temperatures . . . and making sure their respective charges were properly fed.

Though neither Emily nor Ileana was the 'little woman' type, the men were obviously in need of some TLC so a little fussing and waiting on was in order.

It was a new role for Emily but she embraced it fully.

She knew the brothers needed to talk though. It wasn't fair that this decision about their mother fall completely to Hotch. Emily understood that Sean was younger and looked to his brother for guidance, but he was also thirty-five years old and he had to take an active role in the decision making process.

Deciding whether to remove their mother's life support was much too great of a burden to place on Hotch's shoulders alone.

He carried too many burdens as it was. And if he didn't start sharing the load with other people then he was going to drive himself to an early grave. And now that she had some say in the matter, Hotch stroking out or having a heart attack was definitely NOT something that Emily was going to allow to happen.

So as the two couples stood up to begin clearing the table, she pulled Hotch into the corner to whisper in his ear.

"Why don't you and Sean go talk in the living room? I'll help Ileana with the dishes."

Hotch looked down at Emily, about to shake his head, no, that he knew that Sean wanted no part of this decision. But then she preempted his response with a head shake of her own.

"Aaron," she whispered, "I know that you want to protect him, but he's a grown man. And it's his mother too." Then she ran her fingers along his jaw as she continued sadly, "beyond that though, this is not a decision that you should have to make by yourself," she shook her head slowly, "it's just too much of him to ask of you."

Though she knew that she could possibly be overstepping her bounds . . . this was his family's very personal business . . . she couldn't stand by and say nothing. Her concerns here were for Hotch, and what this was going to do to him if he alone had to decide to remove his mother's life support.

The doctors would be able to tell them tomorrow if there was any hope of her recovering. And if there wasn't, then they would have to be prepared to either let her go, or put her into a facility.

They needed to have an answer to that question before the moment arrived.

Hotch's gaze shifted away from Emily's for a moment as he considered her words. Finally he looked back, his eyes starting to sting as he slowly nodded.

As much as he wanted to shield Sean from this, Emily was right, it was a decision that they should make together. If for no other reason than it would kill Hotch if his brother ended up hating him for making . . . what was to Sean's mind . . . the wrong decision.

Though really . . . when the moment arrived . . . it was going to come down to picking from all bad choices.

Seeing the sadness on Hotch's face, Emily leaned up to press a quick kiss to his lips.

"I'll wait up," she whispered with a pat to his cheek.

Hotch looked down at her, his eyes burning as he bit his lip. And then he blinked twice, cleared his throat, and leaned around the corner to call into the kitchen.

"Sean, do you have a minute?"

* * *

_A/N 2: Definitely winding to the end here, just one more chapter plus probably a shorter epilogue. Chapter nine is pretty much done and I am really going to try to get it finished up for next weekend because I would be thrilled beyond measure to have this story listed as "completed" by month's end._

_I have to say, I do like writing for Ileana and Sean. They have very distinct voices in my head from any of the other characters. Ileana especially is fun (in the same way that Em's dad is) in that she's totally mine and yet still I can hear her talking just as clearly as I can Emily in PB's voice. If I do a follow up in this world, one shot or whatever, I definitely would include this branch of Hotch's family again. _

_If you're curious about the soup they were having for dinner :) last month I found a good recipe for a homemade tomato soup. And it was really fast and easy. Not exactly dietetic but if you use low fat dairy products, you can make a very tasty version that won't send you into cardiac arrest. _

_If you're interested: http:// allrecipes . com ?ms=1&prop25=31917222&prop26=DailyDish&prop27=2010-02-14&prop28=DailyRecipe&prop29=FullRecipe&me=1_

_This has been distracting me this week so I have nothing else totally done yet. Though I do have partials of Girl and Fracture and a brand new story based on one of the prompts so I'm not saying I won't finish something else. And Girl, you're actually getting TWO Jack chapters. I got a second idea, of course neither is DONE yet, but you know eventually you'll get to read them and there will be an extra :)_

_Lastly, random pimping, if you watch/read Castle, my lovely beta Arcadya has dipped her toe into the Beckett/Castle waters. She also writes for The Mentalist, you know as long as I'm throwing random stuff out there :)_


	9. The I and the Love and the You

**Author's Note**: Picking up about an hour after dinner. I make a point in here about Hotch's past that I will explain at the end. More seriousness here but you also get naked Hotch and naked Emily so you know, that's something.

* * *

**Prompt Set #14**

Show: Lost

Title Challenge: Left Behind

* * *

**The I and The Love and The You**

Emily looked up from her case file as Hotch suddenly appeared in the doorway.

Oh . . . she bit her lip . . . he looked awful.

She quickly closed her file, dropping it on the floor as he shut and locked the bedroom door. When Hotch turned back . . . though he tried to hide it from her . . . Emily saw that his eyes were watering.

Hotch stood there for a second, staring at the floor as he tried to blink the tears away. Being this vulnerable with somebody else wasn't something that he was used to . . . or really comfortable with. But then he remembered that this was his Emily. Always kind hearted and compassionate, and she would never judge him or think less of him for allowing his emotions to get the better of him. So he looked up.

And she opened her arms.

The tears that that were pooling almost spilled over, but he held them back for a moment longer as he went over and climbed onto the mattress with her. Then he wrapped his arm around Emily's stomach as he buried his face in the curve of her neck.

As Emily rubbed Hotch's back she asked gently, "did you decide?"

God help them if they didn't and they had to go through this hellish discussion again.

For a moment there was no response, and then she felt him nod right before the warm tears spilled onto her neck.

She had her answer.

"Oh Aaron," Emily's own eyes started to water as she kissed the top of his head, "I'm sorry." As he tugged her closer to his body she whispered, "but remember that it's not definitive yet. The surgeon said that there is a chance that the swelling could still go down."

Granted the surgeon had said that was an unlikely outcome, that things had not gone nearly as well as they'd hoped. And that with her age, statistically there was only a 20% chance of full recovery.

30% chance of partial . . . as in slight brain damage . . . and a 50% chance that she wouldn't wake up at all.

Things were not looking good.

But still . . . she rested her cheek on his hair . . . sometimes the percentages were wrong. Sometimes against all odds people pulled through.

She just didn't want him to start grieving a loss that hadn't yet arrived.

Still though, she knew that the decision he had made was a terrible one . . . she honestly wasn't sure what she'd do in his place . . . and the sense of loss was just as complete for him right now as it would be when his mother was truly gone. So she just held him while he cried, her own tears sliding down her face as she thanked God that she'd decided to come up and be with him. The thought of him in this room crying himself to sleep alone absolutely tore her heart out.

When his tears had passed they lay still for a few minutes. And then Emily felt his hand sliding along her hip. Knowing what he needed, she moved around and climbed on top of him. Their eyes locked, his were still watery and behind the pain she could see another emotion.

Fear.

This was probably the first time in years . . . if ever . . . that he had allowed himself to be so vulnerable in front of another person. And though her heart was breaking for him, Emily still felt incredibly honored to be that person.

Using the tips of her fingers, she gently wiped the remaining tears from his face. Then she leaned down and kissed him, trying to show him that he had nothing to worry about, nothing to be embarrassed about.

That all his secrets were safe with her.

His hands slowly slid up her sides, underneath her shirt . . . and then they made love for the second time.

//////////

Hotch woke up to the sound of a ringing phone.

His immediate thought was that it was the hospital and he felt a jolt of panic as he fumbled his hand along the nightstand. Finally he grabbed the vibrating device and snatched it up.

"Hello!" He asked breathlessly.

"Hotch?" came back the perplexed reply, "did I . . ."

Dave pulled the phone away from his ear to look down at the caller ID.

'_Prentiss.'_

His eyebrow shot up as he put the phone back to his ear and asked in confusion.

"Uh, Hotch, why do you have Emily's phone?"

It took a second to process what had happened but then Hotch's eyes widened in alarm as he pulled the device away from his ear . . . SHIT!

He rolled his eyes in disgust . . . great, just FUCKING great! Well, so much for keeping it clandestine.

For a moment Hotch was furious. After everything that had happened already this week, all he had wanted was to protect this fragile new relationship from outside scrutiny and judgment.

Now this had happened.

But then his eyes shifted down to the shadowy outline of Emily's naked body still wrapped around his side. His anger started to fade.

If she was awake she'd be patiently telling him that getting so worked up wasn't good for his blood pressure. And then she'd say that she was disappointed at this turn of events, but what could they do?

Right . . . he took a breath and slowly let it out . . . what could they do?

Nothing.

So after another deep breath Hotch said fuck it. With his mother's condition still up in the air this really couldn't make his list of concerns. There was no point in adding another stressor to his life.

Besides . . . another realization popped into his sleep deprived brain . . . he was the chief. And as the chief he was answerable UP the chain only.

So Hotch opted to ignore Dave's question entirely . . . close friend or not, he still wasn't his boss . . . as he cleared his throat and whispered back with no small amount of irritation, "is there a _case _Rossi?"

Which was the politest way he could think to express, "it's none of your GOD DAMN business why I'm answering Emily's phone at two in the morning."

Just because he wasn't going to stress didn't mean he wasn't still really frigging annoyed.

Hearing the irritation in Hotch's voice Dave was quiet for a moment . . . so apparently the two of them were now sleeping together. At first he'd honestly just been confused, and then for a second he thought maybe there was a possible explanation beyond the obvious. Something that was escaping him because he was too fucking tired to think straight. But no, they actually were involved and Emily's mysterious disappearance . . . on the heels of HIS mysterious disappearance . . . was her going off to be with him.

Wherever the hell he was.

This was definitely NOT information that Dave . . . who was still half asleep . . . was expecting to receive in the dead of night. And for a moment he debated whether or not to push the issue. To ask Hotch how long it had been going on, and had he thought about the consequences to the team if things didn't work out.

And then he decided to keep his mouth shut. Just because he'd learned his lesson about fishing off the company pier didn't give him the right to lecture them. It really wasn't his business.

Well, provided it didn't interfere with the job it wasn't his business. So with a weary sigh Dave pushed all of his questions aside as he shifted the phone to his other ear and got down to the reason they were both awake when they should be sleeping.

"Yeah, it's a bad one. Dayton, three child abductions in the past seventy-two hours, the most recent was reported seven hours ago. Little girl went to her friend's house for dinner and never made it home," Dave cleared his throat, "she's ten."

As the silence stretched through the line Dave stared across his kitchen at the coffee percolating into the glass pot.

God he hated this job.

When Hotch continued to say nothing, Dave's jaw twitched slightly as he asked in irritation, "so can you two meet us there or what?"

He had no idea where they were but there was no point in denying the obvious . . . they were together. And six hours should be enough time to get from WHEREEVER the hell they were to the middle of Ohio!

Hotch closed his eyes as he heard the subtle condemnation in Dave's voice.

Like he needed that right now. Like he wasn't already feeling shitty enough about the fact that he couldn't go. That's why it had taken him so long to process what Rossi'd said.

It was the first time in his career that he'd been told that there were children missing and he hadn't immediately grabbed his bag and run out the door. But this time he couldn't do that.

Then Hotch's eyes began to burn as he looked down at Emily . . . but she had to.

He had to send her away.

_God DAMN it! Why couldn't he catch a frigging break?!_

"Emily," his voice started to catch and Hotch stopped to clear his throat, "Emily will meet you. I can't go."

There was a pregnant pause before Hotch answered the question that Rossi didn't ask.

"My mother's in the hospital. She fell and, uh . . . it's critical. I can't leave her."

As much as he preferred his personal business to stay as such, there was just no way he could bail on an abduction case without explaining himself.

At Hotch's pronouncement, Dave winced as he processed what a jerk he'd just been. And he'd known that there had to be a good reason for Hotch taking off . . . he'd just forgotten. And that's why you shouldn't try to have actual conversations with people when you're half asleep.

You make an ass out of yourself.

"Jesus Hotch, I'm sorry," then he paused before adding awkwardly, "would you prefer that Emily . . ."

It would really hurt them being down two agents but Dave felt he should at least make the suggestion. But before he'd even finished the question Hotch had cut him off.

"I would prefer it," Hotch said coldly, "but it's not an option." Then he heard the chill in his voice and realized that he was taking out his distress at the situation on Rossi personally.

And it wasn't his fault. None of this was anyone's fault.

So Hotch softened his tone as he continued quietly, "just send the details to her phone and she'll meet you."

Without a doubt Emily was not going to be any happier about this turn of events than he was.

Dave nodded, "okay, I'll do that. And uh, good luck with your mother, I'll say a prayer."

The poor bastard. And now he felt like shit for being pissed at Emily for taking off out of the blue. Finally Hotch lets somebody else into his life . . . somebody who he clearly needed right now . . . and now this fucking job was ripping her away from him again.

Dave knew there was a good reason that they all put themselves through this hell, but unfortunately right now the answer was escaping him.

All he could think was that they had to be a bunch of masochists.

Hotch's expression softened at Dave's words . . . just like Emily at the hospital.

"Thanks Dave," he whispered right before he hung up.

Then he looked over to the clock again before his gaze dropped down to Emily still sleeping peacefully. His eyes filled with tears . . . tomorrow he was going to find out whether his mother was going to ever be his mother again, or if she'd be vegetable existing solely with the aid of respirator and a feeding tube.

And he had to get this news with Emily hundreds of miles away.

Christ . . . he cuddled her closer to his chest as he tried to will the tears away . . . how could he get her and have her taken away not even a day later?

For a few minutes he just held Emily close and tried to get back to that sense of calm that he'd had earlier in the night. Those few minutes of pure happiness he'd had when they were joined together.

But it was all tainted now. She was leaving him and that's all he could focus on . . . that was all that mattered.

The world had gone to shit again.

There was no point in pretending any longer so he decided that the best he could do was to let her get a little more rest before he woke her up.

Hotch kissed her forehead as he gently rolled to the side so he could stand up. And then with a sigh he picked up his boxers off the floor.

After he pulled them on he turned back to fix the covers over Emily's shoulder again so she wouldn't get cold. Then he placed another kiss to her temple before he picked up her phone from the nightstand and went over to grab his laptop off the dresser.

With both in hand he slipped quietly out of the bedroom and started down the hall.

///////

Hotch let the computer power up as he went into the kitchen to get a glass of juice. It wasn't until he was standing on the icy kitchen slate that he realized how cold it was in the house and regretted not pulling on a few more layers before he left the bedroom. But he didn't want to risk waking Emily by going back down so he just grabbed the afghan off the back of the couch as he went back in to sit down on the cushion.

By the time he got back to the living room the computer had booted up and he could see Emily's blackberry was flashing with the message from Dave. After he'd taken another sip of the cranberry juice, Hotch pulled the blanket more tightly around his shoulders before he went onto the Internet to book Emily a flight to Ohio.

The earliest direct flight from New York was to Dayton was at 5:53 so he was happy that he hadn't woke her up yet.

She didn't have to go through security so she wouldn't need to be at the airport before 5:30 and it wasn't even 2:00.

He confirmed her flight using his debit card number . . . the only one that he had memorized . . . but it wasn't until after he'd hit print that Hotch realized it was going to be a little awkward for reimbursement purposes to submit paperwork on a flight with her name and his personal bank account number.

Oh well . . . he huffed as he ran upstairs to get the boarding pass out of the office . . . a two hundred dollar loss wasn't going to break him.

After he'd picked up the pass from the printer, Hotch went back down to the living room and opened the email and attachment that Dave had sent to Emily's phone. Then he spent the next forty minutes reading over the details of the case, writing up his bullets on what needed to be done and his initial assessment on the type of offender they should begin focusing in on.

He knew that Rossi was more than capable of leading the team, but as long as he was up Hotch figured that he might as well do what he could to help. Selfishly a small part of him thought that maybe if they hit the ground running that he could get Emily back to him more quickly. But mostly he was just operating out of guilt for leaving them shorthanded when there were three sets of parents in agony waiting for their children to come home.

When he finally hit save on his document it was almost 2:30. Figuring he'd done as much as he could do to help from afar, Hotch sent the finished product to both Emily and Dave's accounts. Then he stood up, stretching and yawning . . . waiting just a moment to make sure that his email popped up on Emily's blackberry.

Finally the little red light began blinking again and he nodded . . . okay, that was done.

Feeling slightly less useless than he had for the last few days, Hotch shut down his laptop, turned off the desk lamp and started back down to the guestroom. He could go back to sleep for an hour, then he had to wake Emily up for her flight.

There wouldn't be any traffic but there would be ice so he knew they should allow at least an extra forty minutes of driving time.

Fortunately they had both showered after they'd made love for the second time. He'd wanted to go right to sleep but Emily had . . . wisely . . . pointed out that they'd be getting up early to go to the hospital and it would be better if they just got it out of the way before they went to bed.

Thank God he'd listened to her.

As he stood in the doorway of the bedroom his expression softened when the shaft of light from the hall fell across Emily's face.

So beautiful.

And soon she'd be gone. Gone when all he wanted to do was be selfish and keep her with him.

With a disgusted sigh he crossed the room, dropped his boxers back on the floor and climbed into bed again . . . no use wishing for impossible things Aaron.

_Missing children outrank your personal happiness._

As Hotch pulled Emily back into his arms, feeling her nude body pressed against his, part of him began to wonder just how long he should allow that to be the case. After all, there would always be another missing child, another rape victim . . . another body in the woods.

What was the point where he needed to accept that as a constant . . . everlasting . . . reality? That no matter how many monsters they caught, there would always be another one lurking under the bed. And once he accepted the truth of that, then maybe he'd stop putting off living his own life.

Everything that they did was just a spit in the tide that was the cesspool of humanity.

And perhaps . . . he thought sadly . . . the fact that he now thought of all humanity as a cesspool was an indicator that it had come time to think about making some changes.

Under the blanket he gently caressed the bare skin of Emily's back . . . maybe. He'd acknowledged to himself his feelings for the woman in his arms, but he hadn't decided yet what he was going to do about those feelings.

Not long term.

Short term yes, he wanted to be with her and try and build a healthy, happy relationship. But what was his end game? They'd know in six months if they were going to be able to make this work, and if they could . . . and he was pretty sure that they could . . . then he was going to be at another crossroads.

_Move in together? Put a ring on her finger but keep separate homes for another year until they got married? Or just whisk her away to Vegas for the weekend and tie the knot?_

That was one part of the equation that needed to be solved. But in the grand scheme . . . that was the easy stuff.

The hard stuff was work.

And work was what was pulling Emily away from him tonight. So work was the half of the equation that was keeping him up when he should be catching up on the precious little sleep he'd had of late. But his mind kept swirling.

How could he be with her, how could he build a life with her, with all the rules in place prohibiting their relationship?

Just dating was one thing, that they could keep private. Rossi would keep his mouth shut. But if Hotch put a ring on Emily's finger, made her his wife . . . his family . . . that was not something they could keep private.

That would result in automatic reassignment for both of them.

But . . . he closed his eyes . . . how many chances was he really going to get to be happy?

Most people were lucky if they found one special person they wanted to live their life with. And he'd found his . . . but then he'd lost her.

And now though by some miracle he had found another special person. One so very different than the first . . . but she too made him happy.

But with his competing demands at work and home he knew that maintaining the balance . . . staying happy . . . it took sacrifice. The divorce had shown him that the way he lived his life was not compatible . . . or conducive . . . to a successful relationship let alone a happy marriage.

Not that he believed that he and Emily were anywhere near the marriage stage yet. But he did love her . . . of that he was sure . . . and he wasn't a man who used that word lightly. He'd only ever loved three women in his life.

Aside from Haley and Emily there was his high school girlfriend Tory. She'd broken his heart when she picked Stanford over MIT. If she'd gone to Cambridge with him then maybe they could have stayed together. But of course . . . he reminded himself . . . then he wouldn't have met Haley, he wouldn't have had Jack, and he wouldn't now have this beautiful woman curled up beside him.

Really he couldn't imagine a world . . . _his_ world . . . without Haley, Emily or Jack.

Okay . . . he huffed to himself . . . so perhaps it was time to let Victoria Ashland and all those might have beens, go once and for all. The last he'd heard she was general counsel for one of the largest investment firms in London so it was unlikely that she was giving his well being any thought at 2:45 in the morning local time.

And with that thought he decided it was probably time to put _all_ of the what ifs and might have beens out of his mind for now. He still had a long day ahead of him . . . longer now with Emily's impending departure . . . so he should try to get a little more sleep while he could.

He rolled over and set the alarm on both the clock and his phone.

Emily had slept through the earlier ringing phone so she was clearly dead to the world. And he'd barely slept more than four hours a night for the past three days, so really, he'd be thrilled if either of them woke up when the alarms went off in an hour.

With a yawn he rolled back over and wrapped his naked body around Emily's.

As he kissed her neck and slid his hand along her hip, he closed his eyes and for just a moment he tried to imagine that world where he didn't have this.

He couldn't.

////////

At the double beeping going on around him Hotch slowly came back to consciousness. He could feel Emily stirring next to him and then a second later her sleepy voice murmuring against his shoulder.

"S'morning already?"

He forced his own gritty lids open as he rubbed her arm, "no, it's not morning, but we have to get up. You have a flight to Dayton to meet the team."

Though it felt like he'd just shut his eyes, Hotch could tell from the bright red numbers glowing next to him that over an hour had passed since he'd gone back to bed.

They'd slept through at least five minutes of the alarms.

Definitely . . . he yawned again as his fist slammed down on the clock . . . not enough sleep. Then he clicked on the lamp and hit the button on his phone before he looked back at Emily.

She had rolled over in his arms and was now looking very bewildered.

"What?" Emily asked in confusion. "When did that happen?"

_Christ! How long had she been sleeping?!_

"Dave called around one thirty," Hotch answered drowsily as he yawned again and rubbed his hand across his mouth, "I couldn't get you a direct flight before 5:50 so I decided to let you sleep."

At his thoughtfulness a soft smile immediately touched Emily's lips as she whispered back, "thanks." But then the rest of his words permeated her sleep fogged brain and she frowned.

"Wait . . . but that means I have to leave."

Of course that was the obvious assumption to infer from, "you have to meet the team," but her synapses weren't firing yet.

Hotch bit his lip as he nodded. "Yeah," he said softly, "you have to leave."

"But," her eyes filled with tears as the situation finally became clear, "I don't want to leave. I want to stay with you."

How could this have happened already?! She hadn't really thought they'd be lucky enough to get an uninterrupted week, but not even a lousy fucking twenty four hours! There wasn't anybody else to rail at for this turn of events so Emily screamed at the one person who couldn't scream back.

REALLY GOD . . . she bellowed in her head . . . his mother's dying and you couldn't cut him THAT much slack!?

Seeing Emily's eyes well up Hotch's immediately began to sting again as well.

"I know," he brushed her hair back, "but there are missing children, you have to go Emily."

As the tears began to run down her face he pulled her to his chest and kissed the top of her head.

"Please don't cry," he whispered into her ear, "just having you here for a few hours was more than I could have hoped for. You made me happy for a little while," he pulled back slightly to kiss her cheek, "and for that I'm so grateful."

Happiness in small doses was the story of his life. Hell, it might as well be the title of his autobiography. And it was truly a shit way to live.

Emily sniffled against his chest . . . he was right. If there were missing children her staying wasn't even an option.

She reached up to wipe her hand across her face and then she sniffled again before she lifted her head.

"I'll come right back as soon as the case is over," her voice cracked, "okay?"

She'd go, they'd solve the damn case and she'd fly right back to him. It was the most she could offer . . . and she knew the offer totally sucked.

Though his heart was aching, Hotch managed to give her a little smile.

"Okay," he kissed her forehead as he whispered hoarsely, "okay. That sounds good."

Knowing that they were both on the verge of getting entirely too emotional about something they had no control over, Hotch patted her back as he started to sit up.

"We need to get going. The roads are going to be bad."

///////

The roads were actually awful. Before they could get to the better treated highway they needed to get out of the residential area and a thin coat of black ice was covering over where the plows had run through hours before. Hotch cursed as the rental car began to slide for the third time. Fortunately they'd been going at minimal speed but that time he couldn't regain control and they ended up gliding into a snow bank. As they came to a gentle stop, he rolled his eyes as he looked over at Emily, "this, as you would say, sucks."

Though she'd been biting her lip in a near panic at the treacherous drive, Emily's eyes still crinkled slightly as she looked back at him.

"Maybe it's a sign I'm not supposed to leave."

If only.

Hotch sighed and then turned to look over the winter wonderland around them, "I wish. But unless Dave calls back in the next hour to say that Dayton caught the UNSUB on their own, then you have to go sweetheart."

That was what his prayers were down to at the moment. The Dayton police calling up and saying, "oh, never mind."

Pathetic.

Just then Hotch noticed that Emily's face had lit up and then she surprised him with an unexpected . . . rather passionate . . . kiss just as he went to put the car in gear again.

"What was that for?" he asked in surprise as he looked across the seat.

Despite the hour, and the circumstances, she beamed at him, "you called me sweetheart!"

Not only was she "his" Emily, but she was now his sweetheart! Those two things together were almost the same as an 'I love you'!

Seeing Emily's delight at this term of endearment, Hotch's lips twitched slightly as his brow rose in amusement. "So I did," he leaned over to kiss her one more time before turning his attention back to getting them on the road.

The ridiculous grin stayed on Emily's face for a moment. And then she started feeling even guiltier about leaving him alone.

_God _. . . she prayed as her eyes started to sting again . . . _please don't let his mother die while I'm gone_.

And though she hated to bring up anything depressing again, she needed to tell him something else before she left.

But as she heard him cursing at the roads she decided it would keep until the airport.

///////

They got to JFK at 5:25 and then they hauled ass through the airport to get to her gate. Her flight had just been called for boarding as they ran up and Emily turned to him, her eyes filling with tears as she realized that she really was going to have to leave him now.

Her fingers stroked along his jaw as she said sadly, "I'm so sorry I can't stay."

Hotch bit his lip as he pulled her into his arms and whispered against her hair, "I know you are sweetheart. But it's okay," he swallowed over the lump in his throat, "I'll be okay."

He actually wasn't really sure that he would be. Just having her with him for the past day and he'd started to lean on her. Her presence was a soothing balm. Making love to her was the only time this week that he'd truly been able to forget for a little while how shitty his life was at the moment.

And now these new coping mechanisms were being taken away just as he was going to need them most.

As though she could read his thoughts, Emily murmured against his throat, "if something happens I want you to call me immediately," the tears began running down her face as she leaned back, "it doesn't matter how late it is, or what you think I might be doing, you call me. Do you understand? You _promise_ me that you'll call."

She was afraid that she'd get on that plane and he'd go back into his little Hotch shell again. The one where he shut everyone out and tried to deal with all of his problems alone.

Hotch eyes started to water as he nodded, "I promise."

Behind her Hotch could see that the boarding area was nearly empty now . . . she had to go.

And as much as he'd love to kiss her goodbye like he had the other night that was much too personal a display for him to make in public.

But of course that didn't means she wasn't getting a kiss goodbye.

So he leaned in pressed his lips to hers. And then she tilted her head and threw her arms around his neck as he pulled her closer and lifted her off the ground. Right before he started to let his emotions get away from him, he pulled back. Then he gave her one softer kiss before he pulled away completely. And as he held her in his arms he had never so much despised their job.

"You be careful." His voice was husky as he gave her a firm look.

As much as he trusted the others, he hated sending her off knowing that he couldn't watch her back.

With a sniffle Emily nodded at him, "I promise."

The last thing she wanted was him worrying about her. And then the agent called out, "final boarding ma'am," and Emily nodded as she projected her voice over her shoulder, "I'm coming." Hotch slipped her bag back on her shoulder as she placed one more quick kiss on his lips. Then she turned to hurry over to the counter. After she showed the woman her boarding pass, she then pulled out her badge to explain the bulge of her weapon under her parka.

Once her pass was scanned Emily turned back to Hotch.

"Bye honey," her voice broke as she blew him a kiss. But then to her absolute delight . . . he blew her a kiss back. Then he called out, "have a safe flight sweetheart."

Emily's voice had left her, but she managed to give him a watery smile right before she turned and ran down the gangplank.

Her tears were blurring her vision.

Hotch stood at the window with his hands in his pockets, watching as Emily's plane taxied out and headed for the runway. He remained there, staring at the brightening sky long past the point where the plane's lights had disappeared.

And then he turned . . . and started back to his car.

* * *

_A/N 2: Fortunately this was never labeled as a fluffy story and I don't think it is truly full on angst, it's just Dramatic. But do I get that this is a heavier dramatic tale. I had been reading an article with TG where he was saying as much as he loves working on CM, how depressing sometimes the show can be and talking to the real life profilers and asking them how they can keep doing this work. And that kind of caught in my head as I was crafting these final chapters and just how in the wee hours that the reasons that they do the work are going to fade and they'll just be stuck with the bitter sadness of living in this world. And how long can you really live that way with the crushing sense of duty always taking precedence over your own desires. They love each other, his mom's dying yet still he buys her a plane ticket and she gets on the damn plane. What is that? It's F'd up is what it is!_

_I also decided to not make Dave matchmaker guy here. I think there's a plausible incarnation of Rossi that would be wary of an inter-team romance screwing up their dynamic. But he's also their friend so he decided not to push it . . . for now._

_Now to the point that I'm explaining at the end :) My mental canon for Hotch and Haley was that they met in college. Though I've been boycotting season 5, I know from Chiroho that they had the ep where they clarified it was high school. To that I say, tomato, tomatoe. I KNOW when I started writing The Hours and then Girl that it was written on some summary website that it was college. I know this because I specifically looked it up when I was writing a back story scene for something. But whatever, I get that officially it's now been stated high school but my brain still defaults college because it was a learned "fact" that it is no longer a fact. So occasionally you shall notice that I write they met there as opposed to earlier. I'm okay with that interpretation :) And I'm okay with that interpretation even though I got a private message telling me that by saying they met in college I was "spreading false information and making people think that you are ignorant." Which was a rather vitriolic (insulting) remark for such a ridiculously trivial matter. And I have much I could say on that point but I'll just leave it at, how psychotic would I have to be to "spread false information" about FAKE television characters? It's bad enough when somebody does that about real people, but fake people? That would imply a need of some sort of medication on my part._

_Back to fake life unadulterated by real life, I know people were hoping Hotch's mom would pull through, and it's not looking good right now. But just a point to remember as to how that plays out, this story isn't about what happened to her. It all started with a misunderstanding between H/P that threatened to derail their whole relationship before it really got started. So this story on a broad scale is about Hotch and Emily finding a way to work through all these obstacles to them being together. And after you read the conclusion you will better understand how that ties into what I've said in the A/N._

_So for the weekend, a Girl, hopefully a Fracture (that is my focus, writing that draft), and possibly the epilogue to this one if I get the other two up. The end here will definitely be up within the week._


	10. The Wrong Made Right

**Author's Note**: I expected this up yesterday but RL conspired against that happening.

But yes, it's the conclusion of CB. So YAY that's another one knocked off the list! We're back down to 14 ongoing stories, but keep in mind that's out of 58 total so my completion percentage is still way up there :)

It's been a little while since I updated here but we left Emily getting on the plane and Hotch heading back to the hospital. We're picking up the next day.

**

* * *

Prompt Set #9**

Show: Without A Trace

Title Challenge: More Than This

**

* * *

Bonus Challenge #17**

Show: Police Women of Maricopa County

Title Challenge: That's No Way to Be a Girl

**

* * *

The Wrong Made Right**

Emily was in the middle of a meeting with Dave and the lead detective when her phone began to vibrate. She looked down to see Hotch's name flashing.

Shit.

She shot Dave a look as she stood up.

"I'm sorry, but I have to take this."

She and Hotch had spoken when she first landed, but it was still so early that his mother hadn't left recovery yet. He told her that the surgeon wasn't expecting to have any news for them until at least noon, so after she hung up with Hotch, Emily had tried to distract herself with the case so that she wouldn't think about Hotch pacing those hospital corridors all by himself.

That image was breaking her heart.

But because of that recurrent picture in her mind . . . there was no doubt that's what had been happening all morning . . . she'd been acutely aware of the hours and minutes ticking away. So she knew that it was now almost one.

Forty-five minutes passed the point she'd been hoping to speak to Hotch.

She'd been trying to extract herself from the meeting for the last twenty frigging minutes so that she could call him and find out what was happening. The fact that he was calling her first did not seem to be a good sign of anything. And as she saw Dave nod and tell her to give him his best, Emily tipped her head as she hurried out, already hitting the green button before the door had fallen shut.

"Hey," she asked softly as she stepped into the corridor, "how are you?"

Her eyes darted around the precinct as she tried to find a private place to talk. The rest of the team was in the large conference room to the left so she went right.

The last thing she wanted was for anyone to overhear their conversation. She'd had enough questions when she'd arrived that morning. So she wasn't about to open her behavior up for more group discussion.

Hearing Emily's voice come through the line, Hotch closed his eyes for a second . . . thank God. Though she'd only been gone for seven hours, he'd missed her so much. It had taken no time at all for him to begin to need her in ways that he hadn't needed anyone before.

But of course he'd never gone through anything quite this bad before.

And all he'd wanted as he paced those hospital corridors was to have Emily next to him, to hear her voice again. And now finally here she was whispering in his ear once more.

It wasn't the same as holding her hand . . . but still . . . half of his wish was better than not having any of her at all.

Then he heard her worried voice come through the line again as she asked if he was there. And that's when Hotch realized that he was taking too long to answer her. So he opened his eyes, again finding himself looking down at the scratched varnish of the wobbly Starbucks table.

He sighed.

"I'm here but, things aren't good. It didn't . . ." his voice caught, "it didn't . . ."

He had to swallow before he was finally able to finish the sentence.

"It didn't work . . . I have to talk to the doctor today."

Though he and Sean had decided last night that they would remove their mother's life support if the surgeon told them that there was no hope of meaningful recovery, when the doctor asked him today, Hotch just couldn't give him that answer until he had talked to Emily first.

She had become his sole support system. Emily was the reminder that even if his mother was truly gone now, he wasn't alone in the world. Yes, he had a brother and a son . . . but Sean had his own family. And Jack was still so little that Hotch couldn't take anything from him but his love.

Emily though . . . he heard her intake of breath through the line . . . from her he got tenderness and strength.

And she was his alone.

But being forced to talk to her in the middle of the Starbucks half a block down from the hospital was making this whole conversation even worse than it would have been otherwise.

And given that he already felt like he had a hole in his gut, he really would not have thought that possible.

Hearing the pain in Hotch's voice, Emily's eyes began to burn.

"Oh Aaron," she murmured in sympathy, "I'm so sorry."

Spotting an empty interrogation room, Emily slipped inside as she continued speaking softly, "so there's really no hope? Yesterday's surgery didn't do _anything_?"

"Well yeah," Hotch suddenly spit out bitterly, "it did do _something_. It killed her Emily."

And then he cringed . . . that's great Aaron, she's all you've wanted all day and now you're biting her head off a minute into the call. He was just wound so tightly that he'd been snapping at everyone today.

But that didn't make it okay.

"I'm sorry sweetheart," he whispered sadly, "I didn't . . ."

But Emily gently cut him off.

"It's okay Aaron, I understand."

The stress he was under right now was horrendous. And with her gone again he had no positive outlets for working off any of that nervous energy.

A little snapping was to be expected. Also, it was better than him keeping it all in and bursting a vessel.

She just couldn't believe that after _that_ many hours of surgery that it had all been for nothing. Yes, she'd known that it was a long shot . . . still though . . . she'd stayed hopeful for Hotch's sake.

It was a hope that for once the universe would be kind to him.

But apparently . . . she thought bitterly . . . a little kindness for a man that did so much good was just too much to ask.

As silence continued to come through the line, Emily knew that Hotch was just trying to get his emotions back under control. As she pictured him sitting by himself, the tears started to pool in her eyes.

He so badly needed somebody there with him. But unfortunately there was no one. She was gone, and she knew that there was no way that he'd go to Sean right now. Hotch was the older brother so he needed to be the strong one. And because of that, her guy was all alone.

All alone . . . a tear slid down her face . . . in a city of seven million people. And she knew that all he was trying to do right now was shove his anger and loneliness and grief back down under lock and key.

But as strong as he was, she knew that this was just too much for him to handle by himself.

It was too much for anyone to handle alone. And her brain began to whirl as she tried to decide what to do for him. Then suddenly the words came flying out of her mouth.

"I'm coming back."

Okay . . . she blinked . . . that was easy.

"Emily, no," Hotch said firmly before he cleared his throat, "you can't do that. There's a case. There are children to find, you can't leave."

As much as he wanted her back . . . as much as he NEEDED her back . . . there was work to be done. And work came first.

Always.

Emily knew exactly what he was saying . . . it was the same thing that she'd said to herself in the wee hours of the morning. But that this was this morning. And she was now resolute in this decision so she shook her head firmly.

"Don't try to talk me out of it Hotch," she wiped her hand across her face, "I'm coming."

But of course he did try to talk her out of it. And she listened to the bitter weariness in his tone as he started in on the job and their responsibilities and how sometimes they had to make sacrifices for things bigger than themselves.

And she knew that he believed all of those things . . . he had built a life out of making sacrifices for things bigger than himself . . . but she also knew that he wanted nothing more than for her to come back to him. So she did what she should have done last night.

She put him first.

"Hotch," she cut him off with a sigh, "I'm just one person on the team, one person in this whole city out of hundreds that are actively looking for these children. My presence is not going to make or break this case," she took a breath, "and honestly, I think these children are already dead. Beyond that though," her voice got husky, "and it might sound horribly callous, but there's always going to be another missing child . . . _always_."

Her voice started to waver.

"Honey, we can't keep living our lives for strangers . . . we have to start living them for ourselves. And, well," she sniffled as the tears came back again, "you're more important than they are. I want to be with you," her voice cracked, "I shouldn't have left you."

It wasn't until she was on the plane . . . sobbing quietly in the corner as the man next to her kept passing her napkins . . . that Emily started to really think about her decision.

How stupid it was.

She should have just refused to leave him. She should have called Dave back and said that Hotch might have to remove his mom's life support the next afternoon . . . she was QUITE sure that Hotch hadn't mentioned _that_ point to him when they spoke . . . and she wasn't going to leave him alone. And Dave would have understood completely, and he would have told her to stay with him, that they'd get by.

They always did.

And then if things had actually gone well with the surgery, if his mom had been moved to a regular room, THEN Emily could have caught the flight to Dayton to join the team and find the children.

But she made a different choice . . . and she'd hated herself for it.

How in God's name did they ever expect to build a _real_, genuinely loving and supportive relationship if one of them couldn't put aside this God forsaken job for a measly TWENTY-FOUR hours? That's all it would have taken.

A twenty-four hour delay.

Hell, a TWELVE hour delay would have told them his mother's prognosis! But Emily was so wrapped up in the routine of duty and responsibility that she didn't even let herself consider that there really were other choices.

That it didn't always have to be the ringing phone that ruled their lives.

Hotch tucked his head down as he slowly scrubbed his hand across his mouth.

What Emily was saying was exactly what he'd been thinking last night. That eventually he was going to have to choose to live his life . . . not for the job . . . but for himself. That he needed to take a serious look at his priorities if he ever wanted to be happy again.

Apparently Emily had come to the same conclusion.

And as he heard her crying on the other end of the line . . . six hundred miles too far away . . . his main regret was that they hadn't had this conversation last night. Because he knew then that he had no chance of changing her mind.

She was coming back.

And though he knew as her chief that he should order her to stay . . . he just couldn't do it. He needed her too much.

"Okay sweetheart," he whispered in a husky voice, "whatever you want to do. Just tell me when to pick you up."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Hotch realized that he couldn't leave the hospital for that length of time. He'd already been gone too long.

"Actually, Ileana's going to have to pick you up," he sighed, "I can't leave for that long."

Thank God the storm had passed or it wouldn't have even been possible for Emily to come back all. Though the county roads were still covered in snow and ice, with the millions of cars and pedestrians traveling on Manhattan's streets, that snow was quickly turning to slush.

Emily sniffled," right," she pushed back her chair as she wiped her hand across her face, "okay," she took a breath, "I'm going to go talk to Dave and then I'll go to the airport and catch the next flight."

For a moment she paused, her eyes dropping down to the battered interview table.

"When I know my flight number I'll um . . . well I guess I'll call the hospital and have you paged."

Cell phones were so unreliable there that she didn't trust that he'd get a text message.

Hearing Hotch whisper back "okay sweetheart," her heart broke just a little more for him. And just before she opened the interview room door Emily stopped, her voice catching as she said softly, "I promise hon, I'll be there soon."

Feeling the tears beginning to pool once more, she quickly hung up before she started crying again.

There would be time for that on the plane. Right now she had things to do.

Hearing the line click, Hotch listened to the buzzing in his ear for a moment before he slowly exhaled.

"I love you too."

/*/*/*/*/*/*/

Emily landed back in New York ten hours and fifteen minutes after she'd left. Again she was exhausted, but again she was pushing that aside as she raced up the gangplank and ran through the terminals.

Sleep had become a luxury that other people enjoyed.

It was four ten in the afternoon when she stepped outside into the cold again. The air wasn't quite so bitter as when she left, and it only took a second for her to spot Sean and Ileana's Range Rover at the head of the arrivals line.

Knowing that every minute of delay now was an additional minute away from Hotch, Emily hurried passed the half dozen cars between her and the forest green utility vehicle. When Emily arrived she knocked once on the passenger side glass and a second later the locks clicked.

With some trepidation she opened the door and climbed inside.

At first she said nothing, and there was no greeting from the other woman. For a moment Emily stared straight ahead out of the windshield, watching the State Troopers ushering cars passed them.

After one more beat, Emily slowly shifted her gaze to look at Hotch's sister-in-law.

She was staring back . . . and as expected . . . there was judgment flickering in her eyes.

Emily knew that Ileana was wondering how she could have left Hotch at a time like this. But she didn't know the life that they led. She didn't know how monumental it was that she'd walked away from an active case and flown back to him. Ileana wouldn't understand the looks of astonishment that her action had elicited from her teammates. She'd told Rossi what was happening, but she wasn't about to out Hotch's personal situation . . . not to mention their new relationship . . . so to the others she'd simply said that she had to leave, and walked out of the station.

Emily's concerns were far beyond what the team thought of her behavior. Yes, they were her friends, but Hotch needed her and that's all that mattered. Rossi could handle the rest.

Though as she sat there now waiting for the words of condemnation from the woman next to her, Emily also braced herself for an awkward . . . possibly contentious . . . ride back to the city.

It all depended on how much Ileana hated her right now.

But instead of yelling and saying all of the awful things that Emily would be thinking in her shoes, all Ileana did was twitch her jaw once.

"He missed you."

The words came out softly . . . and then she looked away, turning to check her mirrors.

As they pulled into the airport traffic Emily slumped against the seat, her eyes burning, her ready bag clutched to her chest.

Trying to hide her tears, she turned to look out the passenger side window.

Whether or not she knew it, those three little words were probably the worst thing that Ileana could have said to her. The guilt was like a knife in chest, twisting into the hole that was already there.

Feeling a trickle start to spill over, Emily's hand came up to discreetly wipe the corner of her eye, and then she bit her lip as she clicked her seat belt into the lock.

It didn't matter what Ileana thought of her right now . . . she told herself as the airport started to roll away from them . . . all that mattered was that she was back for Hotch.

She cleared away the condensation forming on her window.

The rest of the family, well . . . she rubbed her hand across her mouth . . . that would have to be a project for another day.

/*/*/*/*/

As Emily expected, the ride into the city was silent and awkward. She could have tried to explain things to Ileana . . . how their world worked . . . but she just didn't feel like getting into any of it now. All she wanted to do was call Hotch, but she knew that he was in the ICU and there was no chance of reaching him there. Even still, halfway to the hospital she decided to send him a text that they were on their way and she'd see him soon. She signed it with an X and an O.

Though she knew that it was doubtful that he'd get it, it at least made her feel better that she tried.

Unfortunately given that it was the middle of rush hour, the traffic was slow not only over the bridge, but all the way across town. And knowing that no amount of cursing . . . or praying . . . was going to make it move any faster, Emily was trying to be patient as they stopped and started for mile after mile.

They were getting there . . . she told herself over and over . . . and as long as they kept moving it would be okay.

But then suddenly they stopped moving.

At first when the car again came to a grinding halt . . . a mere nine blocks from the hospital . . . for a few minutes Emily thought nothing of it. Horns were blaring, people were cursing.

It was a typical day in New York.

But then she saw the crowd begin to gather a few car lengths ahead of them.

Shit . . . her jaw started to clench . . . New Yorkers were far too jaded to stop and gather en mass to look at a simple fender bender.

Something worse had to have happened. Maybe a pedestrian accident.

And as she'd yet to hear any sirens, Emily realized that she might be the only authority on the scene.

Great.

Though they desperately needed to get to the hospital, Emily couldn't just ignore something going on right in front of her. It wasn't like leaving the team working in Ohio.

If she was the only person here with a badge then she needed to step up. So she did her best to push all of her personal worries to the side of her brain as she undid her seat belt and turned to unlock the door.

She was back on the clock again.

As the seat belt slipped back, clattering against the door, Ileana looked over at Emily in surprise.

"What are you doing?"

Though she was still irritated with the other woman for leaving, she knew that Aaron needed her. And it was still much too far to walk from here.

"Something's wrong," Emily said simply as she opened her door. And as she swung her feet out of the SUV, she called back over her shoulder.

"Lock this after me."

Then Ileana watched in astonishment as Emily got out, and then began hurrying down to the crowd ahead of them.

Her hand was on the butt of her gun.

For a moment Ileana sat there stunned . . . she'd never seen anyone jump out of a car and into rush hour traffic before.

What in God's name was going on?

Emily was pulling out her badge as she went past the second car, yelling out, "FBI!" to part the crowd as she approached.

As a hole was made in front of her she tucked her badge away and stepped through the opening.

"Now what . . . FUCK!"

Her eyes popped as her heart started to jackhammer.

There . . . right in front of all these people standing and doing nothing . . . a man was stabbing a woman in the street.

Emily simultaneously yanked out her weapon as she screamed at him.

"FBI! DROP YOUR WEAPON **NOW!"**

In the distance she could hear faint sirens . . . apparently at least a few of the onlookers had thought to call the police . . . but the man paid neither her . . . nor the approaching cruiser . . . any heed as he continued to maniacally slam his bloody arm down over and over into the already mutilated body in front of him.

Realizing he wasn't going down easy, Emily had just a split second to decide what to do next.

Though this was clearly a situation that would justify deadly force, there were too many people in close quarters. The clearance from the attack site to the onlookers was barely eight feet so it would be difficult to make a kill shot without injuring bystanders in the process.

So Emily made a blitz attack, rushing from behind to close the half naked man with the bloody knife. She put the muzzle of her pistol right against the base of his skull.

His hand froze in mid-air.

"Listen," she hissed, "I have some place I need to be so I have absolutely no qualms whatsoever about blowing your fucking head off if that's the fastest way to resolve this situation. Now you can drop the knife and we can wait for the police together, _or_ I can pull the trigger and then wait for the police alone," her teeth ground together, "your choice."

Ordinarily blowing a suspect's head off was clearly the option of last resort, but Emily's trigger finger was itching. After everything that had already happened this week she was far beyond giving a shit about this man's motivations for his crime or finding a way to a peaceful surrender.

He had just butchered a woman in cold blood, he could rot in hell for all she cared. All Emily wanted was for this standoff to be over so that she could get on with her life.

But unfortunately he was hesitating, clearly sizing up the veracity of her threat. So she helped him along with his decision making by grinding the muzzle into his flesh.

Just as she opened her mouth to give a final warning, the knife clattered to the ground.

Her foot slammed down on it as she barked, "now you're going to put your hands straight up and then I'm going to pull this gun away from your head. And then you're going to lie flat, face down on the ground. You will fold your hands behind your head. But," her voice dropped dangerously, "if you so much as _twitch_ while I'm patting you down then you're going out of here on a gurney. Do you understand me, sir?"

_That_ was his final warning.

"Yes," he jerked his head once as his hands slowly rose up, "understood."

"Good," her jaw clenched as she took two steps back, "now on your knees, and then on your stomach, hands locked behind your head."

Once he was prone, Emily did a quick one handed pat down before she pulled out her cuffs.

"Give me your left arm," she commanded. As his arm slowly twisted around she grabbed it and slapped on the first bracelet.

"Now the right."

He hesitated. And feeling the vibration coming off his body she placed the barrel of her gun against his spine before she whispered softly enough that only he could hear.

"You do it and I guarantee you'll spend the next thirty years _rolling_ around Sing Sing."

The man immediately dropped his other arm down and she clicked the second cuff. Then she put on her safety before she tucked her gun in her waistband and stooped down to do a more thorough weapons search.

Still nothing.

Well . . . she stood up, her eyes falling back to the item on the ground as she thought bitterly . . . no weapons but the eight inch butcher knife.

With no small amount of disgust, Emily wiped her bloody hand off on her pant leg . . . the prisoner was covered in arterial spray . . . before slipping her gun back into its holster. Then she stepped over to check the vitals of what she already knew was the dead body on the ground.

Yes . . . her eyes shot back to the prisoner as she stood up again . . . the woman was definitely gone. But of course Emily had known that before she even got the knife out of his hand.

The pool of blood on the sidewalk by her neck was clearly from her carotid. And if there was any mercy in the world then that would have been the first cut and the poor woman would have bled out immediately.

Unfortunately Emily could see that wasn't what had happened. There were defensive wounds on her hands and wrists.

She was fighting him for awhile.

"Emily?"

Hearing Ileana's voice behind her, Emily whipped around as she stepped in front of the body.

"Go back to the car right now Ileana!" She ordered.

Christ! She could not be here, she could _not_ see this!

"But we have to . . ."

And then Ileana caught sight of the red slush on the ground and the body next to it.

OH GOD!

Her hand came up to cover her mouth . . . what had happened here?

Emily winced as she shot another look at her prisoner before she snapped her head back to Hotch's sister-in-law.

"Ileana," she tried a different approach as she put her hand on the other woman's arm, "please go wait for me in the car."

Emily absolutely needed her GONE! Not only did Ileana not need to see this . . . _nobody _needed to see this . . . but she was also a distraction for Emily.

And when you're trying to secure an active crime scene . . . and cuffed prisoner . . . all by yourself, distractions were the last thing you wanted. Especially when you still have a crowd of onlookers less than ten feet away.

Some of them looked a little twitchy and Emily was just counting the seconds until backup arrived.

That's when Emily heard the sirens around the corner. Unfortunately Ileana didn't seem to register them, she was just staring down at the body on the ground.

"The police are here now," Emily continued in a gentler tone, "and they'll take care of the rest," she squeezed her arm, "_please_ Ileana, please, you have to go now. I'll be along in a minute."

God, why did this have to happen today?

Ileana finally tore her eyes away from the puddle of blood soaked into the snow.

"_This_ is your job?" She asked as she looked over to the other woman with a mixture of sadness and disbelief.

"Yes," Emily nodded as she gave Ileana a little push back to the car.

"Now _please,_ go Ileana, you don't need to see this."

WHY WOULDN'T SHE LEAVE?

Hearing the pleading tone of Emily's voice, Ileana finally nodded and moved back a few feet. But she didn't make it back to the car. She'd only walked a few feet before she suddenly bent over and threw up on the sidewalk.

Watching Ileana get sick, Emily felt a stab of pain in her heart. She wanted to go help her but she was working. Then she heard the cruiser skid to a stop, doors slamming and the yells to make a hole.

Though it felt like forever, Emily knew that perhaps only two to three minutes had passed since she'd run up on the scene. The police had probably been delayed by the traffic jam.

Emily pulled out her badge again as she directed her attention to the officers hurrying through the crowd.

"FBI," she called out, "Special Agent Prentiss, your vic's dead." Then she pointed to the handcuffed suspect, "that's your perpetrator, he needs Miranda but I caught him in the act," she moved her boot off the bloody knife on the ground, "and this is your murder weapon."

She could no longer count the number of times in her career that she'd run up on a murder in progress. But of course the specialized nature of her work . . . hunting _active_ serial killers . . . did dramatically increase those odds above even those of an average patrol officer who would generally be first on the scene of such carnage.

Yeah . . . she started pointing out bystanders that would make their best witnesses . . . she really was a lucky gal.

Ileana wiped her mouth, trying to calm her roiling stomach as she watched Aaron's girlfriend explain to the female officer what she had seen and done while the woman's partner started working the crowd.

After a few minutes of back and forth while the officer took notes, Emily pulled out her card. Then she explained that she had a family emergency and needed to go, but if the detectives had any more questions that they could find her at Beth Israel. The woman nodded as she tucked the card into her pocket, and Ileana saw that just before Emily turned away she asked the officer if she could switch out her cuffs for the other woman's. The officer readily obliged, even slipping them into an evidence bag for her until she could clean the blood off.

Ileana's eyes began to burn as she saw Emily tuck them into her pocket before she shook hands with the woman. And Ileana knew then that act was considered a professional courtesy.

Handing somebody a bag of bloody handcuffs was a professional courtesy in their world.

When Emily turned and started over to where she was standing, Ileana straightened her spine.

If she could do this kind of work every day, then the least Ileana could do was pull it together for the few minutes that she was exposed to their life.

Emily stopped in front of Hotch's sister-in-law and the two women looked at each other for a moment.

"I'm sorry that you had to see that," Emily said softly.

Ileana gave Emily a sad smile as she reached over and took her hand.

"I'm sorry that you did too."

Now she felt just terrible for all of the unkind thoughts she'd had that morning when she'd discovered that Emily had left Aaron. She'd been so angry and confused when she'd arrived at the hospital to find him there all alone. And regardless of Sean's insistence that the other couple's relationship wasn't their business, Ileana had been completely unable to understand how Emily could leave Aaron when their family was going through such a tragedy.

Especially when it was so obvious how much he needed her support.

But now that she had seen a little sliver of their world . . . how truly awful it was . . . she could see how dedicated they both must be to choose to see these terrible things. She also now understood why it was that Aaron rarely smiled.

This was a world without joy.

Feeling the tears unexpectedly flood her eyes, Emily dropped her gaze to the ground as she frantically tried to blink them away. It must be the lack of sleep.

Right . . . she took a breath . . . she was just overtired and stressed out.

That's all it was.

But regardless of reason, she did NOT cry at crime scenes, so after she had her emotions back under control again, Emily looked up and cleared her throat.

"We need to go now," she said firmly.

Careful to avoid looking directly into the other woman's eyes, Emily took Ileana's hand and began leading her back to the car.

/*/*/*/*/

Hotch paced back and forth outside the ICU waiting impatiently for Ileana to return with Emily. He'd already worn a hole in the floor and the nurses were starting to give him the evil eye.

But he couldn't help the pacing, it was the only thing keeping him from going completely nuts. Because even accounting for rush hour traffic, they should have been back nearly an hour ago.

Either Emily's flight was seriously delayed . . . though Ileana probably would have had him paged if that had happened . . . or something bad had happened.

Given the week that he was having Hotch was pretty sure that it was the latter.

"Hotch!"

Feeling relief flood his heart at hearing Emily's voice, Hotch spun around to see her hurrying towards him from the elevator bank.

"Hey," he closed the distance between them, opening his arms as Emily dropped her bag and crashed into him, "where have you been?" He squeezed her to his chest as he sighed, "I was getting worried."

"I know, I'm so sorry," Emily wrapped her arms around his neck, "but I couldn't help the delay, there was a stabbing."

Hotch's momentary relief vanished as he pulled back, asking in a near panic as he looked her over.

"What happened? Are you all right?"

He'd just known that there was something wrong!

Emily moved her hand up to cup his jaw, "shh, it's okay," she soothed, "I'm fine, I promise."

It had been her hope that she could avoid getting into any of this with him now, but that had been rather foolish thinking on her part. Clearly he wasn't going to hear the word "stabbing" and now want all the details.

So she slid her hand down to his shoulder as she sighed.

"We were like ten blocks away when traffic stopped, I got out and there it was right in the middle of the street," her jaw twitched, "I caught the guy in the act while twenty people stood around doing nothing."

Hearing the note of disgust creep into Emily's voice, Hotch bit his lip.

"And the victim?"

"Dead before I got there," Emily put her head back on his chest as she continued softly, "I gave a statement to the uniforms but I'm sure a detective will be coming by for a follow up."

God willing he or she would show up shortly so that Emily could get that taken care of before it was time to remove the life support.

Feeling Hotch's hand rub down her back, Emily shoved all thoughts of the murder in the street out of her head, refocusing solely on the purpose of her visit to New York . . . helping Hotch through his mother's death.

Her arms slipped around his waist before she tipped her head back.

"Enough about that, what's happening here?"

She didn't want to ask how he was, she knew how he was . . . terrible.

Though he'd heard Emily clearly, Hotch didn't answer right away. He just stared down at her, thinking about what she'd just told him.

About the fact that the violence really did follow them everywhere.

Then he blinked, avoiding Emily's question for a moment longer as he looked over her shoulder.

"Where's Ileana?"

Sean was down in the family room with Gabby waiting for his wife to get back. Hotch had tried to sit with them for a few minutes but he was much too antsy. He couldn't even distract himself with Gabby. She wanted him to read her a book but Hotch couldn't focus enough to even get through the Cat in the Hat. He kept losing his place. Finally Sean had taken over, quietly suggesting that he try another walk around the floor.

"Uh," Emily cleared her throat, "traffic was horrendous so she let me off three blocks away and I hoofed it, but I don't think she'll be that much longer. She was aiming for the next closest parking garage."

Though she knew that this was the time to mention that Ileana had also seen the carnage in the street, Emily just didn't want to add to his burdens right now.

She had to tell him why it took two and a half hours to get from the airport . . . but he didn't need to know the rest. The rest could wait until later.

Hotch nodded slowly, "okay," he pulled Emily back to his chest again as he slowly exhaled, "good because we're doing it tonight."

When they'd had their update at noon, the doctor had told him that if his mother's condition was going to change it would have done so by then. That essentially she was brain dead. Still Hotch wanted to wait the full twenty-four hours from the end of the surgery before he had the machines removed.

Just in case.

Emily tightened her hold on his waist as she murmured against his shirt.

"I'm so sorry Aaron."

That's what she'd told him on the phone, but there was nothing else she could think to say. But she was so grateful she'd decided to come back.

It was obvious that he was a wreck . . . obvious to her anyway . . . and it just killed her to think that she might have recognized too late that her place right now wasn't out in the field, but here with him.

Knowing that his voice wasn't steady enough to talk, Hotch just kissed the top of Emily's head before tucking her under his chin.

She had become his security blanket. And for a few minutes he just stood there in the corridor with her, smelling her hair and feeling her warm body in his arms until he felt grounded again.

As long as he had Emily with him he was fairly sure that he could get through the rest of this horrendous day without losing control. He could break down again later, in private, with her.

Once he was sure that everything was locked up tight, he patted her back. And when she looked up at him, he leaned down to give her a kiss.

When Hotch pulled away, Emily's eyes locked with his and for a second and she so badly wanted to tell him that she loved him.

But she was afraid that it was still too soon for those words.

Their relationship was so new . . . the romantic aspect of it anyway . . . that she didn't want to rush things too much. Then he might think that rather than a place of genuine emotion, that her words were being said only as an effort to comfort him in his grief. And that could hurt them later.

So instead she leaned up, putting her arms around his neck before she squeezed him close one more time. And as he clutched her to his chest like a rag doll, she pressed her lips to his ear.

"I won't leave you again. When we go home, we're leaving together."

Hotch's breath hitched for a moment before he nodded and leaned back, a sad smile ghosting over his lips.

"Thank you for disobeying me," he whispered back.

Her eyes crinkled slightly as she cupped his jaw with her hands, and after one final kiss, she stooped down to pick up her bag from where she'd dropped it by their feet.

Of course Hotch immediately murmured, "I've got it," as he reached past her and hoisted her duffel onto his shoulder instead. And then he slipped his arm around her waist, pulling her against his side.

"Come on," he sighed, "let's go find Sean."

/*/*/*/*/*/*

**_Epilogue_**

They removed his mother's life support at eight fifty-two pm on February the 26th, two thousand and nine. It was a Thursday.

When the line went flat Sean and Ileana began to sob.

Hotch didn't shed a tear.

He had never cried in public before, and that day was no different. The only two people who had ever seen his tears were his mother when he was a boy and his Emily when he was a man. And as he stood there, seeing that line go flat and feeling the grief rip through him at the loss of the first woman, the second one was wrapped around his side, her face buried in the curve of his neck.

And feeling her warm tears soaking through his shirt was what allowed him to keep his own watery eyes from spilling over.

Because he knew that on that day, Emily was crying for both of them.

Today though . . . nearly ten months later . . . as he stands over his mother's grave for the first time since the burial, he can feel the tears are beginning to pool in his eyes as they did that day in February.

He doesn't want to cry though, his grief is private and it's his alone. And though this is a place of death and remembrance, it is still much too public an arena for him to lose control.

But then again his angel arrives at his side, her hand slipping into his before she squeezes his fingers.

The weather is mild for December in New York, warm enough to go without gloves, and Hotch can feel the warmth of her skin pressed against his. Then his thumb moves up to stroke over the two bands on her finger.

A sapphire band for their engagement, a diamond one for their wedding. They've been married for twenty-two hours and thirty-six minutes.

Not that he was counting.

Their engagement was short. As he'd suspected, he'd known at six months that he wanted to put a ring on her finger and they were married less than two months after he proposed. The sapphire had been a present for her birthday.

Her second present actually.

First he handed her his letter of resignation as chief of the BAU. Then he told her that he wasn't going to make the same mistakes that he had made with Haley, that he knew now what he had done wrong the first time. And he promised Emily that this time he would get right.

And then he got down on one knee, told her that he loved her and asked her if she would be his wife. She started to cry as she said yes, that she would be absolutely thrilled to be his wife.

His eyes crinkle slightly as he thinks back . . . that was a good day.

They've had many of them since they got together, but still that one stands out in his mind. Perhaps because so much of their early time together was marred by his grief over his mother's death, but Emily's birthday was one day that was completely untainted by death.

After he slipped the platinum and sapphire band on her finger . . . sapphires were her favorite . . . he sat down next to her on the couch and pulled a slip of paper from his pocket. He handed her the list of local openings that matched his pay grade. And then he told her that if she wanted to stay in the BAU, that he would start applying to those positions.

Before she could answer he put up his finger and pulled out another list. This one he told her, was if she too decided it was time for a change.

The second list was openings in New York.

Of course he hadn't needed to explain his reasons for that choice. But he said it was just an idea and that he didn't want her to feel pressured. Whatever she wanted to do was fine with him, but that the second list had openings that matched both of their grades and would keep them out the same command structure. He told Emily that a few weeks earlier he had mentioned a theoretical move to Haley. They'd both grown up there, and with the exception of her sister, most of her family still lived there, including her elderly parents. After Hotch's mother had died, Haley had started trying to get home more often herself, and she told him that if he got transferred for work, that she would not be opposed to relocating back to Westchester County too.

So he told Emily, that no matter what they decided to do, his visitation with Jack didn't have to be part of the equation. Either way he was going to be transferring to a position that would give him more time with his son.

For a moment Emily was silent as her gaze ran first over the shiny new ring on her finger and then to the two lists that he'd placed on the coffee table. And then finally she looked to the pile of case files sitting on the floor.

Just a short stack of the nightmares that were wearing at her soul.

She looked back at the lists, leaned over and tore up the sheet of local jobs.

"I want our children to grow up with their cousins," she'd said before she kissed him and climbed into his lap.

That was October twelfth. The next day he told Haley that the theoretical had become actual, and she said that she had been expecting that it would. She'd already set up two interviews with interior design firms in New York. That had been her major in college and she'd just started working again after taking a few years off to raise Jack. But she said she was worried about her parents and was happy for the change. Their custody agreement prohibited either of them moving more than fifty miles without the permission of the other so it wouldn't have been possible for her to move unless Hotch was on board with it. Which in this instance, worked out for all them.

So Haley and Jack moved on November 15th. She has found some part time work, and they're staying with her parents until she finds a house in her price range.

He and Emily had begun their own house hunting right after her birthday. Ileana and Emily had become close, talking regularly on the phone and sharing pictures on Facebook of their personal Hotchners . . . Sean and Gabby and Jack and Hotch respectively. So Ileana would go and take pictures for them and once Emily and Hotch had narrowed down their choices to three, they flew up and did a walk through themselves.

They closed on a four bedroom in Rye on November 3rd and left the BAU on November 27th. That was the day after Thanksgiving.

Rossi was again left in charge of finding the monsters under the bed.

And as the two men had shared a final glass of scotch in his . . . their . . . office, Hotch had asked him again if he was sure that he wanted it. That maybe it wasn't time for him to think about writing another book, or maybe finding another wife.

Perhaps it was time for him to try to be happy too.

Rossi had taken another sip before he said quietly that happiness was beyond him right now.

That he still had penance to do.

Hotch had stared at him for a moment before he nodded and told him that he understood.

And he did understand.

Their work was a zero sum game. You gave it all or you gave it nothing. And when it was time to walk away, you had to leave it completely.

So if Rossi still had more dues to pay, then it wasn't yet time for him to go.

Hotch on the other hand, his accounts were now even. On December 1st he had started running a narcotics unit in Manhattan. Mostly it was an eight to six job, but he knew that every few months there would be a raid thrown into the mix so he'd still get to have a little action. The best part though was that there was little OT and no travel outside of the five boroughs.

And that was just fine with him. He had a fiancé . . . he squeezed Emily's hand . . . wife . . . now to go home to.

Not that Emily was sitting at home baking cookies. She was a floor down from him running her own unit. Hotch told her to apply for the promotion, that she had in the years and as long as they were making a big change anyway, she might as well go for the brass ring.

So she got a grade increase, a new title, and her own team.

Counterterrorism.

Her people were linguists though, analysts that assisted with threat assessment. So barring another major attack, for the most part her overtime was also limited, and the only travel would be the occasional trip down to headquarters in DC.

So they were able to commute together, they had lunch together, and overall they both had a perfect schedules for starting a new family. That was the plan for next year.

A baby.

Today though . . . he leaned down to put the bouquet of red roses on the grave . . . today they were on their way to the airport. They were taking a one week honeymoon in Italy before they came back to their new jobs again. They could have gone for longer . . . both of them had months of annual leave saved up . . . but they wanted to make sure that they were home well before Christmas so they wouldn't be in a rush.

They had Jack for Christmas Eve and plans with Sean and Ileana for Christmas day.

Hotch already knew that was going to be another good day.

But Emily had thought it would be a nice if they stopped into the cemetery before they left for the airport. She knew that he'd been avoiding it. And she was right, he had been.

He felt guilty.

Guilty that his move back to New York had been too little too late. That he hadn't been there for his mother when she needed him, that wherever she was, that she was disappointed in him.

She'd never woken up after her accident so he hadn't even had a chance to say goodbye.

That apprehension had been clawing at him when they were driving over and he wanted to tell Emily that they could do it when they got back. But that would have been cowardly, so he shoved his anxiety down and made small talk about the mild weather.

And as he stood there now he was glad that she had suggested they come today. Though he felt grief and loss . . . the guilt . . . he took a breath . . . it wasn't the crushing weight that he'd expected it would be.

Because as he thought about his mother and the last time they spoke, he remembered something.

She had been proud of him. She liked to tell her friends what he did for a living.

That he caught bad people and made the world a safer place.

And that was true, for all of the heartache that had come with the BAU, for all that it had taken from him, when he walked out of those glass doors for the last time, he knew that the world was a safer place for the work that he had done there.

That was something to be proud of.

Though . . . he felt a small stab of guilt dig into him . . . he still should have found more time to visit his mother before it was too late. But . . . he took a breath . . . that was now neither here nor there.

And her death had taught him a lesson that he might not have otherwise learned.

That life was more than just your work, that eventually your penance would be paid, and when it had been . . . he ran his thumb over Emily's hand . . . then it was time to walk away.

He turned to look at his new wife.

"Are you ready to go Agent Hotchner?" He asked softly.

He'd been so pleased that she'd taken his name. Though having two unit chiefs with the same surname was a bit confusing for their new colleagues, he knew that they'd figure it out eventually.

Emily leaned down to place her own red rose on the grave. Then she looked back at Hotch.

"Affirmative," she said with a little smile as she slipped her arm around his waist.

His eyes crinkled slightly and he kissed her temple before turning back to the gravestone. He stared down at that slab of grey slate for almost a minute.

He was telling his mother that he was sorry that she hadn't known his Emily. That she made him so happy, and that she would have loved her as much as he did. Then he told his mother that he loved her and that he would be back to visit her again. When he was done, he blinked the tears out of his eyes and whispered aloud.

"Bye mom."

And then he turned away, pulling Emily to his side as they crossed the yellowing grass of the cemetery lawn. He looked up to see that the sky was a crisp, clear blue.

Not a cloud to be seen anywhere.

A faint smile touched his lips as he leaned down to press a kiss to Emily's cheek.

Today was a good day too.

_

* * *

A/N 2: I thought it would be different to have an 'enough is enough' world where they finally decide that the BAU really does take more than its pound of flesh and there's a point where priorities have to be made between what you owe the world and what you owe yourself. And this was a world that I felt it was just time to walk away. Plus I liked Sean and Ileana (and Gabby) and I'd kind of like to come visit with them again so we can see them with Hotch and Emily and Jack. You know having a "normal" family situation like most people have with relatives that are seen more frequently than just on national holidays. Plus, giving Jack a cousin of the same age to grow up with seems like fun. That said, I have no plans for another multi-chapter fic in this world, but perhaps an occasional one shot just to check in and see how things are going. So if anybody has an idea for another story here, feel free to plant the seed in my brain. Maybe I'll do one where somebody from the team comes to visit.  
_

_And I felt Emily's ass kicking in the street qualified her for an entry in the Girl Power bonus. Also, her having a Facebook account is canon, it was in 52 Pickup. The idea of her sharing family photos with her new sister-in-law was such a nice normal thing that I had to put it in there.  
_

_So by Baobei's list of stories she had requested updates on :) I just have Fracture left to attend to. Not this week though, holiday festivities did cut into my writing time more than I expected (the family actually expected me to be social and participate in all the reindeer games), but hopefully sometime next week. And I have a few other stories with chapters closer to fruition anyway so there will be something (or perhaps a couple somethings) before that goes up._

_Hopefully you liked the end. When I started this story I had NO idea this was where it was going to but I liked this world. I love the Girl'verse but this world had some layers to it that I enjoyed writing. _


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